One heart's darkness
by Phantom's Fallen Angel
Summary: Ok, don't hate me... This is the old one again, complete and just the way it was. If I write a new one, it will be under a new name, as it would be a completely different story.
1. Chapter 1

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: We all know that I don't own POTO. Wish I did... wish I owned Erik... HE owns me...

Erik (my muse): That's right, I do! (evil laughter) Ok, she doesn't own crap. On with the story.

Me: Oh yes, right. So, POTO belongs to SK, GL and ALW... (too lazy to write those long names)

By the way, I need people's opinion before I continue this story, although it's been festering in my mind for a while now.

I'm sure this idea is not THAT original, but I promise that my OC will NOT be a Mary-Sue. If she does become one, tell me and I shall punjab her! This story is -as mentioned in the summary- based on Susan Kay.

Also, please be patient with me. I'm German, so writing in English is sometimes a bit challenging. And without further ado, I present to you...

Chapter One

His wife's low moans and the midwife's harsh commands were all the Vicomte de Chagny heard from the master bedroom on this stormy winter night. Suddenly, Christine cried out in pain and then the soft cries of a baby could be heard.

Raoul sighed and smiled. The baby had been a month early, he had been afraid it might be to weak and sickly to survive.

But the smile was wiped from his face, when the midwife left the bedroom and hurried over to him.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Is my wife all right?"

"Madame is fine," the plump woman answered, "but she lost consciousness. It is the child, monsieur… it is a monster! I'll leave now. You already paid me and my work here is done…" she crossed herself, "and who knows, maybe I'll be in purgatory for helping this demon girl see the light of day!"

She hurried past the speechless young man who hesitated only a moment before storming into the bedroom. Sure enough, there was Christine, covered in sweat and asleep, but still remarkably beautiful, and there, covered with a baby's blanket was a little squirming someone, who squealed happily, when Raoul picked her up and pulled the cloth from her face.

Raoul whimpered, too, but not happily. This child had not been born early, and it wasn't his! He stared at a miniature version of Erik, at a child's corpse that had started to decay without really dying.

The parchment-like skin was pulled taunt over the high bones, purplish veins were visible at the baby's temple and the sunken eyes, which stared up at the shocked young nobleman with frightening intensity, were a pale golden colour.

After a moment's contemplation, he decided that it wasn't quite as bad as Erik's deformity. The child had a little nose and her lips were of the proper shape, however completely colourless, as deathly pale as the rest of her face.

Christine moved and moaned, and Raoul decided in that moment, that this child should never trouble her. She hadn't seen it yet, nor would she ever.

With strict instructions to the servants to keep the baby's existence from Christine and tell her that it was a stillbirth, he left the house, carrying the deformed girl with him, wrapped in a blanket and fast asleep.

It didn't take him long to hail a carriage to take him to the Opera Populaire which wasn't far from his town house. There, the seething nobleman fumbled with the keys he had kept since the day he had rescued his wife from the Phantom's clutches.

After some time and several wrong turns, he had reached the borders of the underground lake. With a start, he realised that the boat was on this shore and not in the spot where he had left it, which meant that Erik was somewhere around, going about his business.

"Very well," Raoul growled and, gathering his courage again, put his unloved cargo down on the boat's only seat. The child did not stir; it was too tired from the stress of being born.

Then, with one last look, the Vicomte left, preparing to arrange for the burial of an empty coffin and the comforting of his wife.

When Erik returned to the boat half an hour later, the child had woken and screamed its desire to be fed.

Curiously, he picked her up and, upon seeing her face, heaved an anguished sigh.

"Oh Christine," he mumbled, "You do not only _look _like my mother, do you? You are like her, as well…" With a long finger, he stroked the baby's parchment-like skin. "Did they abandon you, too, my little one? Don't worry; I'll take care of you… Madeleine. You won't shy away from my kisses…"

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Eighteen years had passed and it was again the night of the annual masquerade.

Everyone was enjoying the occasion to dress up, hide their faces and walk undetected among friends and acquaintances. Well, almost everyone. A young girl was watching the dancing, twirling couples through the eyeholes of a white satin mask; her golden eyes were filled with a detached sadness.

It wasn't long before she turned away from the bustling activities to seek solace on a deserted balcony. Since she deemed herself alone, she began to sing, in an almost hauntingly beautiful voice that seemed to carry all the sadness of the world.

"Child of the wilderness

Born into emptiness

Learn to be lonely

Learn to find your way in darkness

Who will be there for you?

Comfort and care for you?

Learn to be lonely

Learn to be your one companion

Never dream that out in the world

There are arm to hold you

You've always known

Your heart was on its own

So laugh in your loneliness

Child of the wilderness

Learn to be lonely

Learn how to love life that is lived alone

Learn to be lonely

Life can be lived

Life can be loved alone."

When she had finished the song, her fists clenched in the folds of her dress, almost tearing a hole in the black lace overlay. She expected silence to descend heavily upon her as it always did, but this time, she heard faint clapping behind her. Madeleine whirled around. A girl was standing behind her, dressed, apparently, as a fairy. She was probably fifteen or sixteen and her smile was earnest and polite.

"That was beautiful, mademoiselle," she said, "but very sad. What song was it?"

"None that you would know," Madeleine, who still hadn't caught her breath, replied, "it's… a song my mother used to sing to me… in my dreams."

This piqued the girl's curiosity.

"Why only in your dreams?"

The older girl's hands were shaking know and it was impossible for her to answer, but again, the stranger took matters out of her hands.

"Please, mademoiselle, excuse my manners. I have not introduced myself. My name is Julie Caroline de Chagny, pleased to…"

With a cry of anguish, she shoved past the startled youngster and disappeared into the corridor.

Her fists were rapidly clenching and unclenching. She was torn. Part of her wanted to return to her underground home and into the safety of her father's arms, but another part of her wanted to remain and watch, as this was the only time of the year she got to see her mother, if only from afar. So she decided to stay.

For a moment, she took off the mask to wipe away the tears and then mechanically slipped it back on.

It was not a game for her, not a funny disguise for a masquerade. She wore it always, whenever she left the home beneath the Opera house, for it hid the dead looking face, the curse she had been born with.

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Christine de Chagny and her husband Raoul found their daughter sitting on the edge of the empty stage, staring out over deserted rows of seats.

The concerned mother sat down next to Julie, who looked sad and brooding.

"What is it, chérie?"

"I met a woman, maman, and…" she sighed, "she sang a very sad song. It made me cry, like I haven't cried since I was a toddler. And that mask she wore… it just didn't feel like a costume."

Raoul knelt down as well. "Is she one of the singers here?"

But Julie shook her head. "No, she is… THERE!" she pointed to the folded curtains excitedly and Christine jumped to her feet, her eyes locking with those of a girl, who stood there as if paralysed.

The Vicomtess felt as if her heart had been dropped into a bucket of ice water.

She had seen a mask like that before and the eyes behind it… she would recognize those anywhere. The girl had recovered from her shock and wanted to run away, Christine's cry of "Stop!" made her pause and turn around, her golden eyes were freezing cold.

"You cannot order me around, madame! You gave that right away, eighteen years ago, along with my infant body!"

Christine's brain was reeling. "What… who are you?"

The girl's scornful laughter filled the stage.

"Oh, so quick to forget the demon you brought into this life? Well, I imagine having a little angel like _petit Julie_ would make you forget hideous Madeleine. Ah, don't worry, Madame la Vicomtess, you left me in the arms of a loving father, I could wish for no better. It was just a little reckless, abandoning a baby in a boat, without knowing _when_ Erik would return! But then again, I don't think you cared overly much whether your oldest daughter, madame, would survive!" She was breathing rapidly now and vicious fires were flaring in her eyes. "And now, madame, I will go back to papa, to my beautiful father, and I will try to forget the ugly woman, who I will now call by the worst insult I can think of: mother!"

She turned and ran, and this time, Christine made no move to follow her. Instead, she turned to her husband.

"Raoul," she began, with a voice that shook with barely suppressed fury, "explain to me how mine and Erik's daughter, who, as you told me, was stillborn, is here at the Opera?"

And Raoul, with a last helpless glance at the ceiling, ordered a wide-eyed Julie to wait for them in the hallway, then he told his wife about a stormy winter night eighteen years ago.

A/N: I know, there will be some people out there wanting to punjab Raoul, and other people wanting to punjab ME for bashing him. That's only this chapter, I promise. This will NOT be a Raoul-bashing fic. I don't even know if I will make this E/C or R/C. What do you think? Any ideas?

Oh, and before I forget, the song was "Learn to be lonely", belongs to... Warner Bros. I guess... it's from the movie (which I loved... GERARD BUTLER, marry me!) and it's sung by Minnie Driver.

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	2. Chapter 2

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I still don't own them... (cries) Erik, I need a hug!

Erik: (hugs author) She's a little delicate. Take no offense!

Me: (sniffles) Right... what was I going to say? Oh yes!

THANKS to my reviewers!

Harlequinny: Exactely my point! I'd tell them both to go to hell, well, I would if I weren't so hopelessly in love with Erik. The question is: Would Christine be strong enough for that? Can she just let them BOTH go?

As always, dear readers, REVIEW (please), makes me write faster!

Chapter Two

Madeleine had run back to an empty dressing room in which the passage to the underground house could be found behind a mirror. To her surprise, she found her father already waiting for her, on a chair in front of the little table.

When she entered, looking thoroughly flustered, Erik got up and pulled her into his arms without further comment.

"Papa," she sobbed and buried her face in his black dress shirt.

He lightly caressed her silken curls, that were so much like her mother's.

"I heard your little exchange with Christine," he said softly after awhile.

"Don't be angry, please," came her whispered reply.

"No, I'm not angry," he said with a smile. "I knew she would notice us sometime. They've been here a lot lately, and one Phantom could hide, but two? I'm only sorry you hurt so much, chérie, I wish I could make up for you missing your mother, but I can't."

Madeleine pulled back and gave him a watery smile. "It's fine. Let's go home, papa!"

They had just passed through the mirror when Christine barged into the room, managing to catch the secret door before it closed all the way.

She strained her ears, but couldn't hear anything, not even footfalls. A shiver passed down her spine as she entered the dark passage. Countless memories came flooding back to her. She ran, as fast as her heavy ball gown would allow her and luck was with her, for she reached the shore of the underground lake just as Erik was assisting Madeleine into the boat. Again, her heart gave a painful jolt as she saw the man again, whom she had deemed long dead. Those feelings for him she had kept locked up assaulted her and she wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees and beg him for forgiveness.

"Wait!" she cried and two masked faces turned towards her. "Please," she panted, "let me explain. I never abandoned Madeleine, I never would have!"

There was a brief silence in which father and daughter exchanged a glance, then Erik cleared his throat and decided, mostly to take his and his daughter's minds off any murderous thoughts they might have, "Such matters should be discussed somewhere comfortable. Christine?" He held out his hand, which she took without hesitation, and helped her into the boat as well.

He came last and poled them across the water. Madeleine got out first on the opposite shore, unlocked the door and, for the first time in eighteen years, Christine set foot in the underground house again. It felt like coming home, hardly anything had changed.

"Tea?" Madeleine suggested. She was still not in the least convinced that she should trust Christine de Chagny any further than she could throw her, but she was not about to forget her manners over that.

Erik, after seeing Christine nod and approving himself, reminded her, "English tea, though, my dear, your mother doesn't like our Russian tea."

Madeleine nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

"My daughter," Christine whispered under her breath, before turning to Erik and asking, "she drinks Russian tea? Is there anything she got from me? She certainly has your temper."

Erik simply nodded at that. He was uncomfortable having Christine in his home again and began to question the wisdom of that decision. It had taken him and Madeleine two years to become used to her continued presence in the opera house and he had thought himself ready to face her again, but the old anger at her betrayal was beginning to burn in him again.

"She has your hair," he murmured absentmindedly and motioned for her to follow him as he went into the living room and sat down in a high-backed armchair.

Madeleine joined them with the tea. Her cold amber eyes were not leaving Christine's face, who became increasingly nervous between the two masked creatures.

Madeleine didn't touch her tea, but leaned back in her armchair and said coldly, "You were going to explain to us why you sent me away, madame!"

Christine winced, took a deep breath and started explaining.

"Yours was a difficult birth, Madeleine, and I fainted the moment it was over, without ever getting the chance to look at you. The doctor said, it had been exhaustion, I had been in labour for three days.

Anyway, when I awoke, Raoul told me that I had given birth to a stillborn girl and that he had already taken care of everything… the funeral and such… to spare me the pain. I was heartbroken, feeling like it was my fault. What really happened… Raoul came to look at you, Madeleine, and saw, well, he saw that you were clearly Erik's daughter…"

"I should have known the stupid boy would come into play somehow," Erik muttered under his breath. Madeleine just scoffed. "Oh please, madame, as touching as your tale is, what do you expect? My forgiveness? Never!" she spat, but waved a hand in her mother direction, "But please, finish the story!"

"There's not much left to tell. He took you away, to the shore of the lake, placing you in the boat for Erik to find and left."

"And I suspect you just forgive him for that?" Erik asked scathingly, at which Christine could only shrug helplessly.

Madeleine stood up stiffly. "Please, excuse me, papa, but I should go. I don't want to dirty the carpet with blood and I feel the desperate urge to hurt someone, so I should leave before I do just that!" Hatred was flaring in her eyes and she all but ran from the room. A moment later, they heard the door being wrenched open and then slammed shut.

Christine fidgeted. She was acutely aware of Erik being so close to her, although he seemed not to notice her presence at all, as he was simply staring into his cup.

Finally, the silence became unbearable to her and she cast wildly around for something to say.

"You know, I… I haven't really sung at all, since the last time we sang together… I miss our lessons," she managed with a weak smile. He looked up at her, his eyes cold. "Why did you follow us down here? Why couldn't you leave us alone?" he asked finally, not taking her offer of polite conversation.

"I had just seen my daughter, a daughter I never even knew I had, and you just expect me to ignore that?"

"What I expect you to do," he replied through gritted teeth, "is not to cause anymore hurt to my family. I raised Madeleine as best I could, but I couldn't protect her from mankind's cruelty entirely. I want to at least protect her from yours!"

"My cruelty?" Christine gasped, "YOU sent me away! I would have stayed! You made me go, convinced me you were dying… I loved you back then! But I went, as you said, hoping that I would come to love Raoul just as much after a while. Well, it has been eighteen years and I still don't love him as much as I love you!"

"Spare me, Christine! I don't have the strength to go through this again! Finding Madeleine that night, thinking you had abandoned her, that made it so easy to start hating you again. I liked that feeling. I didn't have to envy Raoul for the pleasure of holding you in his arms each night, for seeing your sweet face all the time…" he turned away again, "You're still beautiful, you know? But you're also someone I don't know anymore."

Tears were streaming down Christine's face now. She stood up and went to Erik, who had also gotten to his feet and was standing rigidly next to the fireplace. He ignored her, even when she placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "I have already broken my marriage vows," she whispered, "I cannot love and cherish Raoul for as long as I live… not after what he did and not with you back in my life!"

Erik faced her again. "What are you saying?" Amber eyes were full of disbelieve as Christine slipped the mask off his face to expose his deformity.

She stood on tiptoe and lightly, hesitantly, pressed her lips against his. He didn't react at first, then he shoved her away from him with a feral snarl.

"Not again, Christine," he growled, "or do you want to destroy me utterly this time? Are you trying to prove to yourself that you can still hurt me?"

"No," she whispered, tears flowing again, "I wanted to see if I could still feel like I did all those years ago. But we are both…very different people now. And I want your forgiveness… although I should have known that even the most forgiving person could not excuse all the mistakes I have made anymore. Madeleine… she should not have grown up imagining that her mother hates her." She was biting her lower lip until she tasted blood. She had dropped down to sit on the floor, her hands squeezing her silk handkerchief. Erik knelt down in front of her, a sudden softness in his eyes. "Now, my dear," he said gently, "now you know what it feels like to be in the hell that is my life!" And finally, he drew her into his arms and allowed her to cry.

A/N: I know this chapter is pretty short, but I've got more coming, I promise! I'm still not sure which way this fic is going to turn, but either way, it will be a tough struggle. Erik is not the most forgiving person, although he might appear a bit soft at the end of this chapter. More of Raoul coming up! Next chapter he meets Madeleine and Erik. Can you guess what will happen?

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	3. Chapter 3

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I wanna have Erik... pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!

Erik: (pats author on the head) Hey, it will be alright. Just remember to take your medication. That'll make it better!

Me: (whimper) Promise?

Erik: Promise!

Me: Ok.

THANKS to my reviewers! I'll respond to a few individuals in the next chapter (I think)

As always, dear readers, REVIEW (please), makes me write faster!

Chapter Three

Madeleine's anger had not dissipated at all on her way back to the upper levels of the opera. She chose another passage up and emerged a few minutes later from a store room, pushing past several people and finally rushing out onto a balcony.

Fury still clouded her vision and so she didn't notice the little rise on the floor until she tripped over it. She threw out her hands, but couldn't catch herself in time before her forehead smashed against the stone railing.

Blackness swirled in front of her vision and she groaned in pain.

That sound alerted two people passing the doors to the balcony.

Jean Des Cars and his sister Suzette, who was a dancer at the opera, rushed over to help the fallen woman.

The young man took her arm and pulled her gently to her feet, but she waved him off.

"It's alright, monsieur, don't bother." Madeleine took a few steps away from them, but swayed dangerously.

"Are you sure?" Suzette asked, concerned, "maybe my brother should escort you home, it would be safer!"

Madeleine opened her mouth to reply, but a voice from the door spoke first.

"That's alright, she's with us!"

Her golden eyes narrowed, but as she was in public, she refrained from any rash actions as she beheld Raoul and Julie standing in the door.

Jean nodded, accepting the Vicomte's explanation and left with his sister after murmuring a few well-wishes in Madeleine's direction.

As soon as they were alone, she retreated to the balcony railing and placed a steadying hand on it so she wouldn't fall over.

"What in the world do you want?" she hissed at the man, who raised a calming hand.

"What would you have me do,… Madeleine, isn't it? Ask your forgiveness? If you are anything like your father, you won't give it to me."

Julie took a tentative step forward from behind her father.

"What is going on here? I think I deserve to know. I am a part of this family, too!"

Madeleine laughed dryly. "So am I. Believe me, they don't care!"

With these words, she brushed past them, but turned back for a moment to look Raoul in the eye. "I hate you, with all my heart and mind, Vicomte! I could have just… killed you! But my revenge is better. If your wife speaks the truth and never knew I existed, then she will hate you now. And you will have to live with that, for the rest of your pathetic existence!"

When she returned to the dressing room, she heard voices through the door, which stood ajar. Her father and Madame de Chagny were speaking to each other. Madeleine crept closer and peered into the room.

The two adults were standing facing each other, Christine reached for his hands and grasped them nervously.

"What are you going to do, Christine?" he asked, softly.

"I simply don't know. I have a daughter with Raoul, as well… and besides, I don't think Madeleine would want me to intrude upon your lives that much."

"You need to give her time! This is as new for her as it is for you! But I, for one… I would like to remember what we shared back then… relive the past. Perhaps we can both get over our fears of getting hurt again."

And then Madeleine beheld a sight that almost tore her heart. Her father wrapped his arms around Christine and, after a moment's hesitation, kissed her softly on the lips. She flung her own arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, despite the tears that were streaming down her face.

The young girl closed her eyes. She felt torn, unable to reach a decision. She wanted her father to be happy, but she wasn't sure that she would be able to develop a sense of trust in this stranger, this mother she had never known. But finally the desire for her father to be happy was overwhelming and she pushed the door open and entered.

The couple sprang apart immediately and Christine couldn't hide the nervous blush on her cheeks.

"I heard what you said. I apologize for spying, father. Madame… Christine, I am so very uncertain as to what to think about you and this new situation. So please, don't ask for my affection. I cannot give you that, but for now, I will offer you the benefit of the doubt. So, by all means, stay with us if you wish, or come by as often as you…"

Pain shot through her skull and, groaning, she pressed a hand to her forehead. When she took it away again, the white satin of her mask was showing a red stain, which was growing quickly. The entire room seemed to be wavering and she blinked, unable to clear the dark spots from her vision. Then the floor seemed to rise up to meet her and the last things she heard were her father's hissing intake of breath as he caught her and Christine's frightened cry. Softly, she murmured "Maman." Then she knew only darkness.

A/N: I know this chapter is pathetic, WAY too short, but I needed a transition. Some parent-child related angst! Next chapter will concern itself with some of Maddy's past. Any particular whishes or concerns? Sorry, if it seems a bit fluffy here, but it's a sort of "calm before the storm" situation. Raoul will be looking for his wife and Julie wants to know just what the heck is going on. And Christine has to make up her mind.

Alright-y, tell me what you think, or in short: REVIEW!

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	4. Chapter 4

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Erik is mine... totally mine! What, you don't believe me? Well, try to take him from me then! I'LL BITE YOU IF I HAVE TO!

Erik: (grins) Go tell them!

Me: See? He loves me!

Erik: Eugh...

Me: You DO!

THANKS to my reviewers! Gosh, it's so great to see that people like my story! Y'all, have a cookie and a Phantom! You deserve it! It's almost midnight here, so I'm gonna be brief... Chapter Four is here, I'll try to update once a day. But I still have school, so I might not be able to _everyday_. Be patient, don't abandon me:)

As always, dear readers, REVIEW (please), makes me write faster!

Chapter Four

Erik caught Madeline as she fell and scooped her safely into his arms.

"Christine, take off her mask," he said commandingly, "I need to say how badly she is hurt."

Christine's hands trembled, but she reached into her daughter's thick mass of silken curls, loosened the straps and pulled the mask off her face.

Madeleine looked like a wilting rose, Christine couldn't help thinking, with a hidden memory of beauty that was long past, and now only left this thing, dreadful and decaying and, now that the only vibrant thing, her eyes, were closed, utterly dead.

She hadn't noticed that she had gasped and taken a step back from the repulsive sight until it was too late and she had to look up into Erik's eyes, which were cold enough to freeze fire.

"I should have known," he said quietly and turned around to go back through the open mirror, carrying Madeleine with him.

"No, please wait!" she pleaded with her hands stretched out toward her daughter but hesitant to touch her skin.

Although she hated herself for it, she couldn't bring herself to lay her fingers on the pale face, afraid to touch the living corpse that was her child.

"Go away, Christine!"

"No, Erik, please, forgive me… I have to… I have to see if she will be alright… My… I can't leave my child when she's hurt!"

His only answer was a dry laugh. "She has been hurt many times before! Oh, that surprises you? What do you think? What should I tell you? About the time I found her bleeding and beaten in an alley behind the opera, or about the time a stagehand broke a wooden pole across her back? Or how about the time she had to defend herself against a drunk opera guest, who had torn off her mask and found the idea to lie with a corpse particularly entertaining? Should I tell you about how she stabbed him to death with a glass shard? No, I know! I could tell you about the time I found her in front of a mirror without her mask and she had seen her face for the first time. She was screaming and trying to claw her own eyes out! She was ten, Christine!" He was breathing heavily and his amber eyes were glistening with tears, but the fury that was shaking his body was stronger.

The woman was sobbing into her handkerchief once more, and she found no words to stop him when he left. She only caught the scent of roses as he passed her, a fragrance that was clinging to Madeleine's hair.

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The ride back to the Chagny mansion was a quiet one. Christine refused to speak to Raoul and all Julie had gotten from her constant questions was a sharp reprimand. So now the girl sat in the carriage with silent tears falling from her eyes and onto her dress.

The town house was beautiful, white and regal-looking, large… -too large, in Christine's opinion, for only three people and a handful of servants. It lay behind high walls and amidst a small park with several cherry trees, a large group of rose bushes and one majestic oak.

The little family didn't pay attention to that as they exited the carriage and entered the house, each with his or her own thoughts troubling them.

Julie wanted to go straight to her room, but a call from her father stopped her.

"We should talk," he announced to his wife and daughter, but Christine shook her head.

"Not tonight. Let us sleep over it and talk in the morning. I, for one, don't think I could reach a decision or a qualified opinion this time of night."

She looked him in the eyes as she said that, and Raoul felt the last flicker of hope die.

Even if she stayed with him, he had lost whatever love she had held for him.

Then again, he mused, you can't lose something that had never been yours to begin with. No matter how close she had been to him, Erik, dead or alive, had always been a bit closer.

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When Madeleine opened her eyes again, she was in her bed, with a clean bandage wrapped around her forehead and her dress had been replaced with a nightgown.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked to the side. Erik was sitting in an armchair, his head supported by one hand, the other one was limply holding a book.

He was dozing, but woke immediately when she moved.

"How are you?" he asked softly, and gently caressed her cheek. The book had dropped to the floor, forgotten.

"I'm… better, I'd say," she said with a smile, which quickly turned into a frown when something struck her as odd.

"Why are you wearing your mask, papa? Since when do you feel the need to hide from me?" He reached up quickly and took it off.

"I'm sorry. I had… other things on my mind."

"Like my mother? Where is she, anyway? What happened?"

He sighed. "I sent her home. I don't know what is going to happen, my dear. A selfish part of me wishes you had never met her, so she would never cause me to rethink my decisions from back then."

Madeleine nodded. "I know. I remember the first time I saw her, in the foyer about two years ago. Did I ever tell you about it? No? She was… she had just arrived, with the Vicomte. They were laughing, and she looked so beautiful. I don't know how I knew that there was something special about her, I only knew she was my mother after Monsieur Moncharmin greeted them as Vicomte and Madame de Chagny. I thought my heart would break, because there she was, the mother I had dreamed about for so long, and now she was there… And the moment I saw how beautiful she was I realised that I could never get that, that motherly embrace I so longed for. After that the nightmares started again… I kept seeing my face, and… oh, papa!"

She started sobbing and he quickly wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to cry. A few lonely tears were streaming down his sunken cheeks.

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The moment the bedroom door shut behind them, Christine turned to Raoul.

"I don't want big discussions, tonight, Raoul, I only want to know one thing, one simple thing you have to tell me!" She took a deep breath. "WHY? Why did you take her from me? How _could_ you!"

Raoul sat down on the bed and began unbuttoning his vest and shirt. His voice was tired.

"I'm not blind, my love. When you left Erik, I realised that you would always love him more than me, no matter that I could guarantee you a safer, richer life. That didn't matter. You loved him, you really did! But after I thought he was dead and you had gotten pregnant, I thought we could finally find that strong love, or whatever you want to call it… and then Richard and Moncharmin tell me that he is still alive…"

"You _knew?"_  
He scoffed, "Of course I knew! I'm still the opera's patron, that informed me when the 'Opera Ghost' resumed his activities. But you didn't know! He was not a threat, until that child came! His child, that would always be between us, that would never let you love me as much as you love him!"

Christine was shaking, but her eyes were dry when she said coldly, "That was very selfish of you!"

"Of course it was selfish! I loved you to damn much to let you go again, so I took the child to her father. He would have _killed_ me to have you, yet you call _me_ selfish! I did it because I loved you, because I did not want to lose you so soon! You are my life, Christine, my whole world!" His voice had become pleading, but his wife refused to look at him.

"Then why did you ever allow me to set foot in the opera again? If you knew they were both there?"

Raoul smiled. It was a very sad smile. "Because in the end I knew that it was hopeless. I had small part of your heart. He had the rest, and your soul as well. The happiness I had with you was stolen from him, so I suppose I wanted fate to have a chance to make things right again. Tonight, it took that chance!"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I will not keep you if you want to go back to him. How could I. My years with you were the happiest I've ever had, but the happiness was stolen. I want to set that right again. My only request is that you will continue being a mother to Julie, if you do choose to leave!"

It was too much for Christine. Although she felt as if she could cry no more, she started weeping again.

"Why do I always make the wrong decisions, Raoul? What should I do? How can I chose between my two children? _What can I do?_"

The door opened and Julie entered. Tears had left their trails down her cheeks as well, but she stood her ground firmly as she said, "I do not know this Erik, or that so-called sister of mine, and perhaps I should get to know them before I pass judgement…" "You should go to bed!" Christine interrupted her.

Her daughter's bottom lip quivered, "I see. You have only known her for a few hours and already she is so much more important to you than I am! I need you too, mama!"

Raoul felt sympathy for her and quickly went over to hug her, but she continued speaking over his shoulder. "Please, mama, don't leave me! I don't want you to go away!"

Christine's gaze remained calm as she met Julie's eyes. "Go to bed!"

A/N: So, another chapter done! Go me! It didn't have as much about Maddy's past in it as I originally wanted it to, but there's more to come. What's your opinion about Christine? She manages to always put her foot into it, doesn't she?

Ok, next chapter will have Nadir in it, more Raoul and Christine (R/C will probably not happen, sorry. She might (!) stay with him for appearance, but nothing more), Julie goes phantom-hunting, and Raoul and Erik have a little 'talk'.

By the way, did you get the thing about the rose? That was supposed to be a reference to the whole White Rose/Nightingale thing, with Madeleine being the forbidden red rose.

SO, share your opinion with me, a.k.a. REVIEW!

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	5. Chapter 5

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I'm gonna go... cry now... because I can't have Erik... or Gerard Butler... LIFE IS CRUEL!

Erik: Oh really? Try having no nose!

Me: Try having no Erik!

Erik: ... good point...

THANKS to my reviewers! Also check out my other story, "Ayesha", if you haven't already. We're having some internet problems at the moment, so I don't know how frequently I will be able to update, but I'll do my best! Keep REVIEWing, that helps a lot!

Also, I have been asked about Erik's age, so here it is... (gulp) my confession: I have to screw with the timeline a little. Imagine Erik was 35 during the whole Christine-thing and is now 53. Otherwise he'd just be too old for the path this fic is taking. I don't like having to change things from the book (well, apart from, uh, the entire ending...) but please forgive me, I had to!

Chapter Five

Christine awoke the next morning with an agonizing headache and the distinct feeling that, although the day before had been hell already, this day would be just as bad… possibly worse!

She got dressed hurriedly without waiting for one of her maids to help her. Before she had finished braiding her hair, Raoul barged into the room. He wore a panicked expression.

"Julie is gone! And I think I know where. One of the stable boys saddled her horse for her and she rode off, about an hour ago."

Christine took a deep breath. "I know where she went. She's looking for her own answers."

"What do you mean?"

She looked up at him, cold anger in her eyes again.

"Well, obviously, she is looking for her sister. I'd do the same thing. I will go after her, and I want you to stay at home! If Erik sees you again, I don't know if I could stop him from hurting you. I don't know if I would try!"

dbdbdbdb

Julie's heart was pounding as she stepped into the deserted hallways of the opera house. It was still early in the morning and only a few musicians were already practising.

Her palms were sweaty and she was chewing her bottom lip, just like her father did when he was nervous.

Was she doing the right thing? Perhaps she should have trusted in her parents to make things right, but she just didn't want to be excluded from everything anymore. After all, she had just found out she had a sister! She had heard Erik's name before, several times, but only as in her mother's music teacher. Now it turned out she had a child with him!

The door to the abandoned dressing room stood ajar. Julie had no idea on how to find the two people she was looking for, she only knew that this was the room Madeleine had gone in and her mother had come out of.

She opened the door fully, and peered inside. Nothing. It was empty. She was just about to step inside, when a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around a little roughly.

"What are looking for, mademoiselle?" a heavily accented voice asked her. Julie looked at the dark-skinned oriental for a moment before answering, "And who are you, monsieur, to ask me such a question without even introducing yourself first? But your rudeness aside, I'm looking for a certain girl, Madeleine, and her father…"

The man's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from Erik and Madeleine? And my name is Nadir Khan, I know the people you seek very well. I doubt that they would appreciate company."

The girl pushed back her frail shoulders.

"Well, monsieur, she is my sister, and she and her father are currently in the process of tearing apart my family! I have every right to go and talk to them!"

"She does!" Erik's voice replied from the doorway. He was dressed in an immaculate suit and opera cloak, as usual and his amber eyes were twinkling behind the white mask as he looked at the Persian. "Daroga, I'm glad to see you made it… on time, for a change. Why don't we take the _petite demoiselle_ with us and she can 'talk' to my daughter all she wants. What do you say, mademoiselle?"

Julie was eying the mask apprehensively, but she was stubborn, and quickly interjected Nadir's "I don't think that would be a good idea," with a nod and took Erik's offered hand.

She stared with an open mouth as she followed the two men through the mirror, down several flights of steps, through maze-like hallways and finally to the shore of the underground lake, which they crossed in the gondola.

Before he opened the door to his house, Erik insisted that Julie covered her eyes and let Nadir lead her inside.

"I know that being meddlesome runs in your family," he explained dryly.

The girl blushed but obeyed him.

Once inside, she marvelled at the homeliness of the place. Erik led her to a door.

"Madeleine is in here," he said, "she probably in bed, so don't mind her appearance." His voice was dripping sarcasm and she shifted uncomfortably, as he knocked on the door and called, "My dear, Julie de Chagny is here to see you!"

Madeleine's voice sounded very surprised as she answered, "Send her in!"

Julie entered the room. It was comfortable, but kept in sombre colours.

Madeleine was sitting on the large bed, wearing a dressing gown of red velvet, so deep a red that it almost seemed black. Her dark curls poured down her back almost unto the mattress. The white mask stood in a stark contrast to her hair.

"Welcome," she said, her velvety voice polite and cautious.

"I'm…" suddenly Julie was at a loss for words. She struggled to remember why she had come, what she had wanted to ask of her sister.

"Please, sit," Madeleine offered and the younger girl took a seat on a plush armchair.

"Tell me about our mother?" Madeleine asked. "What is she like?"

Julie began to smile and launched into stories of her childhood. Her sister listened intently, trying to combine that description with the picture she had always had from her mother.

dbdbdbdb

Erik and Nadir were sitting in the study. They both had a cup of tea in front of them, but only Nadir was sipping on it occasionally. Erik had his head in his hands and kept massaging his temples.

"What is wrong, my friend?" Nadir asked with concern in his voice.

"I haven't seen you like that in almost two decades, ever since you gave up on morphine. You are not taking it again, are you?"

"Of course not," the masked man replied tiredly, "you know I wouldn't. I just didn't sleep last night. It had been an eventful evening… and Christine… she says she still loves me, daroga!"

The Persian groaned. "You are not going to fall for her again, are you, Erik? This is insane! You have your daughter, can't that be enough?"

Erik sat up again. "It was enough. It still is, but… oh, Nadir, you haven't seen her! She hasn't changed. And I want Madeleine to be able to spend some time with her mother."

"She did fine without her!"

"That's what you think! She would have done fine without her, had she never seen her in the first place. But now?"

Nadir sighed and decided to stop the matter. An uncomfortable silence settled over the two men, that was suddenly broken when a bell sounded in the foyer.

Erik frowned behind the mask. He had installed that bell long ago for Christine so she could alert him when she was on the other side of the lake and wanted to cross it. Could it be her…?

He got up and left the house. Although he wasn't sure who or what would be waiting for him, he crossed the lake after shouting back at Nadir that he would only take a short while.

Sure enough, it was Christine waiting on the other shore.

Her hands were nervously kneading her cape.

Without greeting him, she asked, "Where is my daughter, Erik?"

"Which one?" he asked rather tersely, but relented at the pitiful look in her eyes,

"Julie is at my house. She and Madeleine are talking."

"Just talking?"

"Yes, did you think Madeleine would kill? She's not a monster, you know? She's not me!"

Christine blushed.

"Come with me," Erik offered, "you can wait for her in the study, have some tea…"  
"I'd like that," she agreed with a smile, "and I wanted to see Madeleine again. I take it that she is better?"

dbdbdbdb

Nadir greeted Christine rather coldly, but she couldn't blame him.

"Had it not been for Nadir," Erik said cheerfully, "I wouldn't be standing here today. How many times have you saved my life now, daroga? Four or five?"

The Persian made a dismissive gesture. "Enough times to make us even, I'd say," he said gruffly, but with the hint of a smile.

The three adults settled into a comfortable conversation. Two girls' voices could be heard laughing from the nearby room and Erik and Christine shared a smile.

The comfort was destroyed rather quickly, though, as another alarm sounded, which made Erik jump worse than the first one.

"Someone is inside the torture chamber!" Nadir said, shocked.

Erik leapt to his feet and opened the wall panel to be able to look through the two-way mirror into the chamber. Christine gasped at the familiar sight of the man standing in the room, panting in the heat and patting the walls for an opening.

"_Raoul!" _

A/N: TADAAAAAAAA! I updated! Yay! So... cliffie! I like writing cliffies... hehehe... Don't worry, I won't kill Raoul, Julie shouldn't lose her daddy. After all, he IS just concerned for his wife and daughter, he is not _that_ mean... I know I said there would be some more stuff in this chapter, but I can't write that fast. So, there will be a lot of small chapters, instead of a few big ones, okeydokey? Now you all have to review, so I can go on. I'm like a car; it only drives when it has gas, I only write when I have reviews. :)

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	6. Chapter 6

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: ...

Erik: Malori? They are waiting for you to tell them that you don't own me!

Me: They know. But what the heck, ok, so I don't own Erik, he owns me, as we have previously established, and I don't own anything else related to POTO. You happy?

Erik: Yeah, that was ok.

Me: By the way, Nicole Gruebel says hi.

Erik: Oh, hi, Nicole! How are you?

THANKS to my reviewers, BUT... _I need more!_ I'm addicted! I want to have 100 reviews by the time the tenth chapter comes along!

Also, I am surprised myself at the direction this fic is taking. It is writing itself, it's almost scary. Erik and Madeleine have been a little too soft so far, and Christine too whiny. But, I don't want to keep you from it any longer...

Chapter Six

The three adults settled into a comfortable conversation. Two girls' voices could be heard laughing from the nearby room and Erik and Christine shared a smile.

The comfort was destroyed rather quickly, though, as another alarm sounded, which made Erik jump worse than the first one.

"Someone is inside the torture chamber!" Nadir said, shocked.

Erik leapt to his feet and opened the wall panel to be able to look through the two-way mirror into the chamber. Christine gasped at the familiar sight of the man standing in the room, panting in the heat and patting the walls for an opening.

"_Raoul!" _

dbdbdbdb

Erik's swift fingers opened the torture chamber and the Vicomte de Chagny staggered into the study. He fell to the floor, panting, but neither Erik nor Christine made any move to help him, so Nadir pulled him up and then pushed him into a chair.

"What are you doing here?" Christine attacked him the minute he was seated.

He looked up at her, calmly, and replied, "Although you might have forgotten, Christine, Julie is my daughter as well, and I was worried. I know the death maze down here, and you think I was just going to wait for you to bring her home?" He stood up again. "I'm quite tired of you behaving like you are the only one in a difficult situation here, Christine!"

Erik was leaning against the mantelpiece, his graceful fingers twirling a long, unlit taper candle. "I have to say, to my displeasure," he said, "that I agree with the Vicomte. It is your decision, my dear, but it's not just your life that is going to be affected. You'll have to reach a conclusion, and soon, or one of us is going to go insane."

Christine turned away from them both. "You expect me to be so much stronger than I am. Just as you did eighteen years ago. What I want is to get both my daughters, leave Paris, leave France and most of all leave you two! Maybe then we'd all be at peace. How can I choose?"

Raoul sighed. "You have to let your heart decide."

The ensuing silence could have been cut with a butter knife. What did cut it was a bloodcurdling scream from Madeleine's room. The two fathers were first to reach it and when they burst through the door, they came upon a gruesome sight.

Julie stood pressed against the wall, where she had been shoved and was held by Madeleine, whose long and thin fingers were wrapped tightly around her throat.

The mask lay discarded on the floor and the older girl's already deformed features looked even more distorted in a grimace of hatred. Erik ran over to them and, as gently as he could, pried his daughter's fingers apart and away from the other girl's throat. Julie almost collapsed with relief, but was held up by her father.

"What happened here?" Raoul asked harshly, "What did she do to my child?"

Madeleine disentangled herself from her father's embrace and retreated to a corner of the room, where she curled up in foetal position.

"It wasn't her fault," Julie protested, to everyone's surprise, "I took her mask off, after she told me not to. I shouldn't have!"

Madeleine peered through her fingers. "Go away, all of you," she said weakly, "I want to be alone."

dbdbdbdb

Christine refused to accompany Raoul and Julie back to the mansion and Erik threw them all out of the house with a few very harsh words, so she wandered the corridors of the opera alone.

Memories assaulted her and she couldn't find peace, no matter how hard she tried to keep her mind off the past.

Raoul had been right, she realised, she was acting as if she was the only one concerned here. She had not been thinking about the two men, and, even worse, her two daughters.

It was incredibly unfair, but she couldn't find the heart to think of Madeleine as her beloved child, she was so much like Erik that all she could see in her was a competitor in the quest for Erik's love.

That was the one decision she had come to: she did love Erik, more than anything.

In an attempt to get as far away from the source of her problems, she climbed the many stairs to the roof of the opera house.

There she found that another had had the same idea.

She nodded briefly at Nadir, who returned her gaze darkly.

"So, you have done it again!" he remarked bitterly, "only this time, you're making everything worse. Bravo, Mademoiselle Daée," his voice was sarcastic as he used her maiden name.

"I didn't exactly plan this, Nadir," she retorted.

"No, maybe not. Still, I'm warning you this once, Madame la Vicomtess, should you hurt them again…"

"I have no choice but to!" she yelled, losing her composure. "What do you want me to do? You have no idea how I feel! You don't know what this situation is like for me! This girl is supposed to be my daughter and all I know about her is that she hates me. My husband stole my child from me and has been lying to my for the entire duration of our marriage. I want to know my older daughter, I want to be a mother to her, yet I feel threatened by her very presence! My younger daughter needs me yet I can't give her that because I would go mad if I couldn't be with Erik! So there you have it! I choose Erik, does that make you happy? I LOVE ERIK!"

Her words echoed in the chill air. Nadir managed a weak half-smile.

"I will be happy, madame, when I see you tell him that! And when I see Madeleine's reaction to it! I don't think you know…well, how could you know… but her, how can I say this, paranoia… has become worse than Erik's ever was."

"Paranoia…what a word for it!" Madeleine emerged from behind one of the statues, her gaze calm and the distorted features once again covered by the mask.

"I thought you wanted to be alone?" Nadir asked her and she nodded.

"Yes, I did. It seems we all came to the same place to seek solace in solitude. Now, Uncle, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my mother alone."

The Persian shot her a worried glance, but left, shrugging his shoulders as he went.

"He has grown old," Christine observed.

"Well, the past years have been trying on him, too," Madeleine replied, "after all, it was he who got my father off his morphine addiction, and he helped him take care of me."

A light breeze blew over the roof and tossed her hair and her skirts. The white mask seemed to blend with her pale skin in the dim light. For a moment, she looked almost normal, until she turned her head again and her face was cast into shadow.

The skies were grey and heavy rain clouds were hanging over the city of Paris, like a blanket ominously threatening to suffocate all life if the actions taken that day were not the proper ones.

Christine cleared her throat.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

Madeleine nodded. "I heard what you said. And I have also reached a decision. I used to long for a mother, especially after seeing you with Julie. Now I think I should consider myself lucky. Since I don't want you as my mother anymore and you don't want me as your daughter, it's only my father we fight over. Madame la Vicomtess, consider this," she took a step closer, "a declaration of war. If you try to take my father from me, who is the only one I have left, I will make sure you suffer as I have suffered, everyday of my life! You wouldn't want to wake up finding that your only remaining daughter has had an accident, would you?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

The mask hid her expression, but Madeleine's mocking laughter made her mother shiver. "Don't think she would be the first to die at my hands. Or the first innocent. When the world hates and shuns you, it is easy to develop a contempt for its inhabitants. Papa, Nadir and Meg are the only people to look upon me without fear. I thought you would be one more, but you are no better than the rest of humanity."

dbdbdbdb

The massive wooden door shuddered under the relentless pounding of Christine's slender fists, and when Meg Giry opened, her expression was frowning, but quickly softened at the sight of her friend.

"Christine, you should have come sooner!" she said happily as she ushered her inside the small flat. "For the past two years we have only met at the opera. _Mon Dieu,_ Christine, I understand my mother now! Being ballet mistress is hard work! Those little brats, they never…"

Christine stopped her babbling effectively by slapping her lightly on the mouth. She was so furious she stammered as she said, "You… you knew I had a… you knew about Madeleine! Why? Why did you know about my child when I didn't?"

Meg's face paled. "Oh…"

"Meg, how could you know? How could you not tell me?"

"He made me swear not to," Meg replied weakly, "besides, you were already married to the Vicomte, what right had I to meddle into your marriage?"

"I can't believe this," Christine said with a whimper, "is there anyone I can trust?"

Meg regarded her seriously. "So you met her, then? And it did not go well."

"She is insane, Meg. She will be a danger to everyone."

"And what do you want to do about that?"

"I don't know. But I will not allow her to harm Julie… and I will not let her keep me away from Erik!" She walked to the window that overlooked the street, which was deserted. The torrential rain that had started a few minutes ago had chased everyone back to their homes. Her eyes followed the street to the Opera Populaire.

"I had hoped this would end without anyone coming to harm, but… if it is war you want, my daughter, I cannot refuse you!"

A/N: So. Hmm. War. Well... Not what I expected at ALL! Who is writing this story, anyway? It's not me! I'm innocent... or maybe not. Hehe.

So, too few people have read my one-shot 'Ayesha'. I want some more reviews on that, or I might refuse to continue this story! Well, isn't that a threat?

If these demands are ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!

I remain your obedient servant

P.F.A.


	7. Chapter 7

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Erik: Are you okay? You look a little whiter than usual. (quote from "Matrix")

Me: I'm sick. It sucks, big time!

Erik: Aww... you need anything?

Me: Hmm... you could make me some tea... and sing some more!

Erik: Ok! (goes to the kitchen, humming Music of the Night)

THANKS to my reviewers, keep on reviewing, you make my day (although I'm really sick!)

I think I have been misunderstood when I said that I was surprised at the way this fic is turning. I have it planned out, people. Uh-huh! I have outlined every chapter (there will be 20, in total) and I know how this story is going to end! All that's twisting without my help is the way of getting to the point in each chapter. I was going to have Christine and Madeleine be snapping at each other, but I didn't plan on that much open hostility. Well, anyway, no plot bunnies are needed, nightbug08, I'm fine, thanks anyway. :)

Also, I have been told -quite a few times now, so there's no need to say it one _more_ time :) - that this fic is very rushed in the beginning. YES! You are right, totally, and I'm sorry, but I just had no plans for her childhood, yet I didn't want to throw everyone into the situation: Well, here she is, 18 years old, imagine how she got there by yourselves, will ya?  
But ok, I see it was still much much much too rushed. I'm not the biggest fan of flash-backs, mainly because I somehow don't use them correctly. So, what I will do is, I'll write this story, just as I planned, and then I'll write a prequel, for those of you who want to know more about why Madeleine turned into the girl she is in this story. Sound ok? Let me know!

And now, have fun with...

Chapter Seven

The opera had to suffer under Madeleine's anger during the next few weeks. Props disappeared, the corps de ballet had many more stories to tell about disembodied voices and the stagehands refused to climb up onto the catwalks alone.

Richard and Moncharmin were waiting anxiously for another black-bordered note that would tell them how they had disappointed the Ghost, but none came.

Suzette Des Cars was now always picked up by her brother Jean after rehearsal, as she was too scared to leave the opera by herself.

The leading soprano had burst into tears numerous times during rehearsal, for some female voice that came from nowhere and everywhere at once, always interrupted her, singing her part in a much more beautiful variation, but always in a mocking tone.

Christine was not to be kept away, however. Indeed, she even came daily, to talk to the ballet mistress Meg Giry or visit some other old friends that were still working there.

Erik watched his daughter's behaviour with worry, but he didn't interfere until he received a note from Meg Giry in which she informed him that the managers were so concerned about the continued disturbances that they were thinking about cancelling that night's performance.

As he sat in the comfortably dark interior of Box Five, tapping the armrest of the red velvet chair with one long finger and absentmindedly crumpling the note in his other hand, he decided that something had to be done about it. He decided to speak to his daughter at the first opportunity, which presented itself later that day, shortly after he had successfully finished an aria for what might become his second opera.

Madeleine had just returned to the underground house and gone straight to her room.

Erik went after her. The door was closed and it took her a little longer than usual to answer to his knock.

He entered to find her sitting on the bed and braiding her hair.

"We need to talk," he announced seriously and sat down in an armchair in front of her. "I have been aware of your behaviour lately and I want to know what is possessing you to act that way! I know I have probably done much worse, but that was during a time in my life… in a situation I don't wish on anybody."

Madeleine's hands fell from her hair. Her eyes were filling with tears.

"Don't be angry with me, papa, please! You are the only one I have! If I lost you… I'd be all alone."

Erik's voice was calm as he replied, "So that is why. You're afraid Christine would steal me and an d so you are trying to scare her away?"

Madeleine's tears and the fact that she could not meet his eyes were answer enough. Erik stood. His expression was stern and the gaze from his sunken eyes held not pity for the crying girl. He knew the insane fear she felt very well, and coddling her would only make it worse. Severity was the only thing that would help.

"You will stay in this room, Madeleine, and think about what you have done."

He left and closed the door behind him, ignoring the growing sobs that marked his departure.

Back at the Chagny mansion, life had settled into a routine, albeit an uncomfortable one. Christine no longer shared a room with Raoul, she had moved into one of the guest rooms.

They rarely spoke, mostly it was Julie who attempted to hold a conversation at the table.

The past day had been particularly bad. In the morning, Christine had found a red rose on the doorstep. The delicate flower, obviously a gift from Erik, had made her smile in a way none of Raoul's opulent presents ever had.

Dusk found the Vicomte in the library. There he sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames and looking desperately for answers to the many questions that plagued his mind.

The door to the salon was open. He could see Christine coming down the sweeping staircase and sighed.

She noticed him and came into the library.

Her smile was soft but sad and his own mirrored hers. He tried to memorize her face. The warm, cinnamon eyes, the sweet oval face with the cute nose and the graceful mouth, as red as a rose in bloom, the mass of unruly curls the colour of dark chocolate that poured down her back. Her figure was slender, yet soft. She looked younger than her thirty-eight years and not like the mother of two almost-grown daughters.

"You, ah…," he cleared his throat, "you should know that I asked our lawyer to begin setting up the divorce papers!"

She nodded calmly.

"Thank you. That can't have been easy. I hope you know that I'm sorry to be hurting you, Raoul."

He took her small hand in his.

"Don't be. As long as I know you're happy, I will be."

She nodded again, extracted her hand from his grasp and sat down in a leather wing chair.

"Anyway," Raoul smiled, "the public would be disappointed if they didn't get a nice little scandal from our family now and again."

He picked up his cognac snifter and took a sip.

Christine smoothed a few folds in her plum coloured velvet dress.

"Have you… uh, talked to Julie?" he asked uncertainly. She nodded.

"She wants to stay with you. And I am fine with that, as long as I see her still," Christine reassured her husband. "She has always been your daughter much more than mine. I have often lamented that, but maybe it was to prepare me for this. It certainly makes it… not as hard to accept the fact that I will not always be around her."

Raoul felt the muscles in his jaw twitch as he fought back a sudden rush of tears. He succeeded, and asked, "So, your decision is final then. I never knew I was doing you so much wrong, you have to believe me. When I took you away from him, I thought that it was for your own good. I thought you loved me."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I do love you. Of course I do, I just… I'm not in love with you. I'm in love with Erik, I have always been and I think you have always known!"

He nodded, but he didn't answer, determined not to let the possible tremor in his voice give away how close he was to tears. So far, he had seen everyone cry, his wife and daughter numerous times, the mysterious Madeleine and even Erik, but he hadn't let himself go so far.

Whatever tears he might shed, they would be selfish, for his loss only, and he didn't want to be anymore selfish than he had already been in keeping Christine by his side and away from her true love for so long.

His wife patted his shoulder one last time before she stood up and said,

"I will always be your Little Lotte."

She left and closed the door behind her.  
That sound broke his resolve. Tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks, he buried his face in his hands and sobs shook his shoulders.

Christine heard him from outside the library, but she did not go back in.

She wouldn't have stayed with Erik out of pity, so she wouldn't remain with Raoul for that reason, either.

Her heart felt lighter somehow, having made that decision.

Fate, it seemed, had given her a second chance at happiness.

As for Madeleine…

Christine still hadn't got used to the fact that she had another daughter, but she was aware of how dangerous Madeleine could be if she was anything like Erik had been those years ago.

She took her warning very seriously, having witnessed the disturbances at the opera herself.

Something had to be done. With an idea forming in her head, she went back to her room, sat down at her desk and started to write a letter.

"Dear Erik…," how good it felt to write those words. She smiled.

The note was finished quickly. She would have Meg deliver it in the morning.

A/N: Alright, chapter seven is done. It's painfully short, I know, but I don't have that much energy today. Keep reviewing, and you'll get a Phantom cookie! Sound like a deal? I have drawn some pictures, of Madeleine, Christine, Erik and Julie. If you're interested, I can scan them and send them to you, if you give me your e-mail address.

By the way, ILuvSnuffles805, be careful. Be _very_ careful! Erik is SO TOTALLY MINE!(Gerry, too) :) (But if you ask nicely, I might let you borrow them now and again) lol

P.F.A.


	8. Chapter 8

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I own only my OCs. It has been established enough times that I do NOT own Erik, POTO, etc.

Erik: You know, you're getting more and more sarcastic.

Me: Yes, well, I learned from the best.

Erik: See?

Me: Oh well, you're right! By the way, I'm supposed to give you this! (kisses him on the cheek)

Erik: Malori! Not in front of the kids!

THANKS to my reviewers, keep on reviewing, you make my day. And I'm healthy again, yay!

I know I'm taking a little longer to update these day, but more reviews would make me do that faster. Really:) So, you know what to do...

There are a lot of notes/letters in this chapter. It's mail time!

Chapter Eight

Madeleine didn't sleep well that night. Her dreams were unsettling, but she never managed to wake from them. Her mother's face appeared constantly, changing first into Julie's, telling her that she would never be normal, then into Erik's, reminding her that she should learn to be lonely, and finally into her own, amber eyes full of fire, a horrible face that was laughing at her, taunting her. "_Curious people, aren't they, Madeleine? They scream when they see us, think they are unfortunate… but we, we have to live with it, don't we? This is OUR face…" _

She awoke with a gasp. Her hands were pleasantly cool and she placed them over her sleep-heavy eyes. Sleep wasn't an option anymore, and a glance at the clock told her that it was morning anyway, so she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up.

Not bothering to get dressed yet, she simply pulled on her velvet robe again and left her room, tiredly running a hand through her tousled curls.

Her father was in the kitchen when she entered, sitting at the small table and staring at a sheet of paper.

"Good morning, papa," she greeted him as she poured herself a cup of tea and added a slice of lemon.

When he didn't return her greeting, she turned around to look at him.

His sunken eyes appeared, if possible, even darker and the way his deformed lips were set informed Madeleine that she was in trouble.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice shaking a little. Her father normally only looked like that when she had done something very wrong and he was exceptionally angry with her. His fury was terrible, and although he had never hit her in her life, his voice alone was enough to reduce her to tears. It was one of the reasons she hardly ever disobeyed him.

After a moment of continued silence, he spoke, without looking at her.

"Where did I go wrong as a father?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Where did I fail? I know these aren't the perfect circumstances for a child to grow up, but I thought you were happy, for the most part. What made you hate me so, that you want to hurt me in such a way?"

Madeleine gasped and dropped her teacup. It shattered at her feet, the hot liquid scalding her bare feet, but she didn't even notice.

"I would never hurt you, papa! Never!"

"Then how do you explain this?" he asked and handed her the letter he had been staring at.

Madeleine took it and read it quickly.

Dear Erik,

I am writing for one part to let you know that I still love you.  
Now that I know you're still alive, I can hardly bear to be one  
day without you. Raoul and I are preparing our divorce and I  
will move in with Meg for the time being.  
I have tried to find you these past days, but the opera is not  
exactly the safest place at the moment.  
I realise that it is our daughter's handiwork, in an attempt to  
keep me away and I have you all to herself, which is something  
I can understand. Don't be too angry with her and let her know  
that I am still her mother and that I still want her as my daughter.  
Misguided love can be dangerous, my dear Erik, we both know  
that, but I can't be another week without seeing you. Meet me  
on Saturday on the roof of the opera, after the performance.  
Please, I just have to see you. Until then, my love.   
I remain

Eternally yours,

Christine Daée

Madeleine felt numb all over. When she had declared war on Christine, it had seemed the only way to get her life back the way it had been.

She had expected the Vicomtess to admit defeat and crawl back to her husband, but apparently, she was not to be thrown off.

"You yourself said you would give her a chance," Erik reminded her sadly, "what changed?"

The girls fists trembled and she suddenly whished for her mask to hide her tears behind.

"I'm scared," she burst out, "I have known nothing but hatred from anyone outside this house, and now I suddenly have to accept new people into my family? I'm only trying to protect what I know!"

Erik stood up so quickly that Madeleine gave a small shriek. He grabbed her shoulders.

"How could you be so ignorant, girl? To think that I would give you up, that I would leave you! Yes, I love Christine, I want her in my life, but I would never leave you! I don't trust in this peace entirely myself, but," he fought for words, "I am fifty-three years old, child. I want this peace. I want to wake up next to the woman I love and I want to see my daughter grow up and become the wonderful woman you are destined to become!"

He let go off her and pulled out his pocket watch.

"I will go and meet with Christine. I want you to stay here and write a letter of apology." His gaze softened. "My dear, I'm sorry for the turmoil this must be causing you. But she is your mother and, finally, you can be with her. Isn't that something you wished for?"

The performance of that night's opera had been abysmal, but the Opera Ghost had taken a break from criticizing the managers and cast for a while.

All Erik had waited for was the final curtain before he hurried up the many stairs to the roof of the opera.

How well he remembered the scene he had witnessed there once, almost two decades ago, when Christine had planned to run away with Raoul… it had been the beginning of the end. This time, it might be the beginning of happiness in his life, although he didn't dare to dream of it yet.

Christine was waiting for him and flung herself in his arms when he approached her. He held her, but didn't return any of her kisses. She pulled away a little.

"What is it?" she asked, fear evident in her voice, "What's wrong?"

He smiled down at her a little. "It's been so long. I'm almost afraid to hold you any closer or touch you any more, because you might turn out to have been a dream. Besides," he sighed, "this isn't quite as easy as I hoped it would be."

She took a step away from him, but grasped his hand instead. She shivered slightly, the grey dress she wore did not exactly provide warmth, so Erik used his free hand to drape his warm and cosy cloak over them both.

"You are talking about Madeleine, I presume?" she asked.

"Yes, who else? My… our daughter is reluctant to let her guard down, and I can't really blame her. She has experienced worse things than I have, I think."

"What will you do?"

He shrugged. "I will talk to her and listen to what she has to say…and I hope I can convince her to take a chance with this. I will never give up my daughter, Christine, you know that! Not even for you!"

She nodded. "There is not much I can do at the moment, it seems." She snuggled closer to him. "For now, I just want to remember what it felt like to be in your embrace."

When Erik returned to the dressing room, still smiling happily after his meeting with Christine, he was surprised to find Julie standing in front of the mirror, running her small hands over it and obviously looking for an entrance.

His approach had been silent, as usual, so she didn't notice him until he spoke.

"Mademoiselle Julie, may I help you?"  
She shrieked and turned around. Then she recognised him and her stance softened a little.

"Monsieur Erik, I'm glad to meet you! You just met with my mother?"

Erik nodded. He was curious as to what this girl was doing there. She seemed to have inherited her mother's curiosity. It still remained to be seen if she was as meddlesome as her father.

"I am a little late then… was Madeleine with you?"

Erik folded his arms across his chest.

"No, she wasn't. Might I ask why you are being so inquisitive, Mademoiselle de Chagny?"

The expressionless mask unnerved Julie, but she fought her uneasiness bravely.

Shaking fingers withdrew a folded sheet of paper from her pocket, which she held out to Erik.

He took it, unfolded it and his eyes widened behind the mask as he recognised his daughter's handwriting.

Dear Julie,

I am writing in order to apologise for my ghastly behaviour.  
I had no right to attack you and I am deeply sorry. You know  
now why I wear the mask, and you can probably guess what  
hides under my father's. Our faces are the reason why we  
chose to hide ourselves from the world. Mankind has little  
patience for those who are different. I have met many hardships  
in my life, my father as well, so our distrust for strangers has  
become a habit which at least I am unable to shake off.  
Still, I wanted you to know that I probably would have liked  
having you as my sister. We will most likely never know, now  
that I am sure our mother told you that I threatened her and said  
I would hurt you if she didn't give up on my father. I would  
never harm you and that's something I wanted you to know.  
Do not forget me, even if we do not meet again. I remain

your sister,

Madeleine

Erik was more than surprised about this letter. He looked up at Julie again.

"So what was your purpose in coming here? Do you want to talk to Madeleine?"

Julie gave something in between a nod and a shrug.

"That, and I wanted to show this to my mother and you before you become angry at her for something she would never do!"

Erik had to smile at the girl. She hadn't even known her sister for more than a couple of weeks and had only spent about an hour in her presence, yet she was already sticking up for her. What side of the family did that come from?

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face before crossing over to the mirror and opening it with ease.

"Christine has already gone home," he explained, "but of course you can come with me and speak to your sister!"

He extended his gloved hand to her which she took after only a short moment of hesitation.

Together, they climbed down the many stairs, crossed the lake and entered the underground house. Julie was talking most of the time, about her fruitless efforts to sing as well as her mother, about her love for the opera and Erik listened to her, occasionally making a small comment.

However, when he entered his home, something immediately felt wrong to him.

The door to Madeleine's room stood open; that in itself was an unusual occurrence.

"Madeleine?" Erik called. No answer came, so he entered the room and found two sheets of paper on her desk. One was the letter to Christine, short and to the point, the other one, however, shook him to the core. It began with the words, "Farewell, papa."

A/N: (hugs an Erik plushie) Oh, I wish I could be nice to him for a while, but he just has a tough life, doesn't he? Oh, I almost forgot. (throws Phantom cookies to reviewers) You'll get more if you review more, so hit that nice little button right down there.  
\/

P.F.A.


	9. Chapter 9

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Don't own POTO. If I did, Christine would have never ever chosen Raoul in the first place!

OH MY GOSH! OVER 100 REVIEWS! (gasps, faints)

Erik: Oh dear! (gives authoress oxygen) This really was a little much for her, she is... delicate.

Me: (whimpers) r...reviews... Erik...

Erik: Yes yes, it will be alright. (sighs) So I guess it's up to me.

THANKS to her reviewers, keep on reviewing, she might faint again, but hey! that's acceptable.

Hell has frozen over, it's a month of blue moons and pigs are flying: She updated!

Me: (stutters) S... sorry... F...fluffy chappie...

Chapter Nine

Madeleine shivered in the cold night air. Her cloak was not warm enough for a cold winter night out on the streets, but she had nothing warmer, as she rarely left the opera.

She clutched her bundle closer and peered out from under her hood. There were a few pedestrians in the street and she didn't want to have to go past them, so she waited on the corner.

Her thoughts drifted back to her father. She wondered if he had found her note yet.

The thought brought new tears to her eyes. Leaving had been an impulsive decision, but she still believed that she was in her father's way. Now he would be able to be with Christine and he didn't have to leave his daughter, she had done it for him.

The men were off the street now and she continued on her path, hoping against hope that the solution she was looking for would lie at its end.

dbdbdbdb

Erik was still staring horror-struck at the note in his hand when he heard Nadir's voice behind him. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he turned around and said, "Nadir, would you be so kind as to escort Mademoiselle de Chagny back upstairs?" and to Julie he continued, "I am afraid Madeleine is not here at… at the moment. You can see her some other time."

Nadir cast him a worried look, but didn't comment as he took Julie's hand with a bow and a short "Mademoiselle" to lead her back. She cast confused looks at Erik but refrained from asking questions at the warning glance from Nadir. So she only bid the tall man goodbye before she followed the Persian.

They did not talk much on their way back to the upper levels to the opera, but when they had reached the dressing room again, Julie couldn't help it and asked,

"I've seen Madeleine's face and she told me that her father's is similar… is it really that bad?"

Nadir regarded her coldly. "You are a lot like your mother, Mlle de Chagny, but fine. Erik looks like any other man. Or like any other man would after having been dead for a couple of months. I hope this satisfies your curiosity!"

He turned his back on the pale Julie to go back through the mirror, but then added one last thing. "You should consider yourself lucky that you haven't seen him unmasked. Those who do are either his friends or his enemies, and you don't want to belong to the latter. As for friendship with Erik… I doubt that you possess the strength of character."

The insult made Julie straighten up. "I understand that you wish to protect your friends," she said sternly, "so I will let your rudeness slide again. However, you are doing exactly what you accused me of doing. You judge me without even knowing me!"

Nadir gave her a reluctant smile and admitted, "Touché! Au revoir, Mademoiselle Julie!"

Then he disappeared through the mirror for good.

When he returned he found Erik kneeling on the ground in Madeleine's room, still clutching the note.

"The foolish girl…," he whispered, "I have underestimated how much she is like me."

"What happened?" Nadir asked, completely nonplussed.

Erik handed him the note. Nadir read it through and gasped.

"She ran away? How could she do that? What is this nonsense of not wanting to stand between you and Christine? Where could she have gone?"

"Nadir, if I knew anymore, don't you think I wouldn't just be sitting here?" the irritable Opera Ghost snapped. He got up and picked up the fedora which he had cast to the side earlier.

"What will you do?" Nadir asked.

Erik shrugged. "I will give her one day's time, then I will go to find her, even if I have to turn every stone in Paris. And once I have found her, we will have a serious talk about controlling that obstinate temper of hers."

"The one she got from you, you mean?"

"Be quiet, Nadir!"

dbdbdbdb

Meg Giry had arrived at home about an hour ago, after the performance. The ballet corps had been horrible and she planned to work the girls twice as hard the next day, but for now, she would let it rest. It had been an exhausting day and she wanted nothing more then to get into bed after a last cup of hot chocolate.

It didn't take her long to wash up and change into a warm cotton nightgown and a woollen robe. As she prepared the hot beverage, she was looking around the little flat and thought, once more, longingly of her mother.

The flat she now lived in was smaller than the one she had been inhabiting with her mother and while that one had always been clean and tidy, hers was in a constant state of mess.

A loud pounding on the door shook her out of her thoughts.

She went to the front door and opened it a fraction, then wrenched it open all the way.

Madeleine entered, casting a thankful nod her way and twisted her bony hands, which looked blue and frozen.

"Good God, Mademoiselle Madeleine, what in the world are you doing here, at this time of night?" Meg asked. She had always been uneasy around Erik, the Opera Ghost, whose confidante she now was after her mother's death, but she'd always had a weak spot for his daughter.

"I need your help, Mademoiselle Giry," Madeleine began quietly and then proceeded to tell Meg the whole story, including her suspicions about Erik and Christine wanting her out of the way. To her surprise, Meg disagreed completely and became almost angry.

"I don't believe Monsieur Erik would ever want you out of the way," she argued, "and I personally think that it was quite foolish to run away. Your father must be so worried about you, child!"

Madeleine stood up so quickly that her skirts billowed around her.

"DON'T call me child, Mademoiselle!" she thundered and the beautiful and yet horrible strength in her voice made Meg take a few steps back without even realising it. Then the girl slumped back onto her chair.

"Please, just let me stay here overnight. Maybe tomorrow I will go back and… things will be better. But not tonight, please… Meg!"

The ballet mistress smiled and nodded. "Fine. You can stay here, but really only tonight! I can only imagine what your pa… your father must be thinking. Hot chocolate?"

dbdbdbdb

Nadir knocked on the door of the Chagny mansion with a distinct feeling of dread. Erik's warning about "not meddling" was still ringing in his ears, but it was too late now, anyway.

A tired looking maid opened the door and asked in a rather snappish tone what in the world he wanted so late at night.

Nadir, after politely pointing out that it was only shortly after midnight, gave his name and asked to see the Vicomtess, urgently.

His was led into the salon and after a few minutes, Christine came running into the room, her hair an open cloud of freshly brushed curls behind her and the simple housedress still unbuttoned at the sleeves.

"What is wrong, Nadir? Is Erik alright? And… my daughter?"

Nadir took of his hat.

"I'm afraid they are both not really 'alright'. Madeleine has run away and Erik is, of course, very distraught. It probably reminds him too much of his own past." His voice became urgent. "He needs you right now, Madame. Go to him. If you love him…"

Christine nodded, dazedly, and hurried out of the room again to get dressed.

Nadir waited patiently, twisting his hat in his hands.

After five minutes, he started pacing and was startled rather badly when he saw someone standing in the open door.

It was Raoul, in pyjamas and dressing gown. He looked more then just tired, the bags under his eyes and his drooping posture showed how hard the situation was for him.

In fact, the man seemed to have aged ten years in the past weeks.

Nadir mumbled a greeting and Raoul nodded in response.

"You are taking her back to him, aren't you?" he asked, his voice tired and strained.

Nadir fidgeted a little more. "I have to. He needs her, there are… problems. With Madeleine."

The Vicomte sighed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose then she must go. Tell Erik what I should have told him years ago: The best man won!"

With that, he turned away from the Persian and went back upstairs, his feet dragging behind him.

dbdbdbdb

When Christine arrived at the house beneath the opera, she found Erik in his study, pacing nervously and twisting a folded sheet of paper in his long fingers.

She needed no explanation as to what that paper was, she just rushed over to him and threw her arms around his neck.

He held her close, like a drowning man would clutch a rope that was his lifeline.

"She will be back…," Christine whispered, "She can't be without you! Who could, who ever had the fortune of being loved by you?"

Erik's sobs shook his shoulders, and together they sat through the night, worrying for their child and taking comfort in each other's presence.

A/N: (hugs her Erik plushie) Ok, I'm feeling better now. As always, tell me your thoughts, I promise I won't take so long to update ever again! On my Erik plushie! Oh, before I forget. (hands more Phantom cookies to reviewers) After all, Erik made these for you just yesterday. It's his special recipe, I don't know what's in there, but don't worry, it's nothing... addictive. )

P.F.A.


	10. Chapter 10

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own 'em. Do you?

Erik: They don't. By the way, happy birthday, Malori!

Me: Aw, thanks, sweety!

Erik: I would have made you a birthday cake, but all the flour went into baking more Phantom cookies.

Me: That's alright.

Here is MY birthday present for YOU, my lovely readers:

Chapter Ten

Erik and Christine had fallen asleep in each other's arms. They had talked late into the night, but exhaustion had put them to sleep, even if they were still worrying.

Erik was a light sleeper, however, so he was woken the next day when he heard the door to the study open.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, then they focused on the frail girl in the doorway.

Her dress was crumpled and her hair unkempt. She let her little bundle drop to the floor and her mask beside it.

The sunken eyes looked up at her father, unshed tears making them gleam like liquid gold, half hidden behind the mass of dark curls.

Erik jumped to his feet, for once not caring that Christine's head fell from his shoulder and woke her rather abruptly.

In a second, he had crossed the room and gathered his daughter in his arms, held her close and buried his face in her hair.

Then he pushed her away.

"How could you, Madeleine? Foolish girl, you are the most important thing in my life, how could you think any differently? How could you run away? I have never been so worried all my life!"

"I'm sorry, Papa, I don't know what to say," she said, her voice almost a whimper as the tears finally spilt over.

Christine stood up and put a hand on Erik's arm.

Madeleine looked at her mother for the first time since entering the room.

"I don't know what to expect from you," she told her bluntly, "You say you're my mother, but that word means nothing to me. What are you to be in my life?"

Erik watched the exchange curiously, but chose not to interfere.

"If you'll let me," Christine replied, her voice still calm but also thick with tears, "I will show you. I will be a mother to you and try to make up for the time that was stolen from us."

Madeleine still looked doubtful, but her mother simply took matters out of her hands, reached over and pulled the girl into her arms.

Her whole body stiffened in shock and it took her a moment to realise what was happening.

Her own arms came up slowly to wrap around her mother's slender body. Erik watched them with a smile on his distorted features.

His anger at Madeleine dissipated at the sight of the tears of happiness both women cried.

dbdbdbdb

Julie felt bad about lying, she always had. Even as a small child, she had always admitted to breaking dishes or eating candy she shouldn't have touched, instead of blaming the servants as many a spoilt child would have done.

Now, however, she hadn't had a choice. Her father was already shaken by the latest events, if her knew, that his daughter was off to search for the Ghost and his daughter, he wouldn't have taken the news very well.

So she had told him that she was going to the public library, a facility she had frequented for years now.

Since her father had been outside with her, she had told the driver of the brougham to take her to the library, in front of which she was now standing.

A harsh wind was ripping on her skirts and cloak and tousled her curls. Still, the Opera was not very far and she was more than capable of walking.

What she had not counted on was the small, deserted alley she had to go through, or the ruffians waiting there, still intoxicated with leftover liquor from last night and eager for anything with skirts.

They were all over the young woman before she even had the chance to call for help. Before they could do anything worse than beat her, however, someone noticed the commotion and they took of running.

Julie was left in that alleyway, bleeding and on the brink of consciousness.

dbdbdbdb

Erik and Madeleine had accompanied Christine back to the dressing room and where just saying their good-byes, when Meg burst in, her long blond hair coming lose of the braid and the dove grey dress she wore billowing behind her.

"It's Julie," she panted, her eyes wide with worry. "They found her behind the opera, beaten and unconscious, but nobody knows who did it!"

All three of them gasped and Christine made to follow Meg in a hurry, to be at her younger daughter's side, but turned back one last time. She was panting with fury and before anyone could stop her, she slapped Madeleine hard across the face.

The frail girl, not having anticipated the blow, staggered to the side, her eyes quickly filling with tears of pain and shock.

Erik stared at Christine, unable to comprehend what she had just done.

The small soprano was quick to explain, though.

"It was you!" she hissed, "I know it was! How extraordinarily like your father you are, unable to deal with competition, the lot of you!"

Her daughter just stared at her as if she had just grown a second head.

Erik, however, did not react so quietly.

"What?" he thundered, "How dare you! That from you, Christine. How dare you insult my daughter! It's you who is followed by strife and misfortune." He took a step closer to her, his eyes flashing menacingly, "Go back to your lovesick puppy of a Vicomte, madame, and bother him with your petty problems! We are better off without you!"

Christine was hurt by the coldness in Erik's eyes, but she refused to back down.

After all, she should have expected something like this. Hadn't Madeleine threatened to hurt Julie? And wasn't she the only one who had any motive for hurting her? The two adults seemed to have forgotten all about Madeleine's presence in the room.

"Perhaps I should be glad you think so, Erik," Christine said quietly, "because if you're relieved about me leaving, I don't have to hurt you anymore!"

Erik's voice, too, turned to a whisper. "Anymore? As if there were a part of me you haven't hurt yet,… my love!"

He took his daughter's arm and led her back through the mirror. Christine followed them with her eyes, sure that she had lost him for good this time.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Madeleine had been involved in Julie's accident. But what if she hadn't been…? No, she simply refused to finish that thought.

The petite woman shook her head resolutely and departed for Julie's room, as she had been put up in one of the dressing rooms, having been found so close to the opera house.

The small frame of her daughter was almost swallowed by the gigantic heap of blankets on her and a half-empty cup of tea was resting on the nightstand.

Julie's entire forehead had been bandaged, as well as both of her wrists and her right elbow. However, her eyes were open and she smiled weakly as her mother entered.

"Sweetheart," Christine said softly, sitting down beside her and taking hold of her hand, "did Madeleine hurt you?"

Julie's eyes widened in shock.

"Maman, I hope you didn't believe that! It wasn't Madeleine, she never came near me! Oh, don't say you thought that!"

A cold hand closed around Christine's heart. "What have I done?" What had she done? She had cast aside the love of two wonderful people, whose only desire it had been to receive some of her affection.

She shut her eyes. Out of the darkness of her inner eyelids, two pairs of golden eyes seemed to stare at her. Sad, and ever accusing.

A/N: My Erik plushie is crying on the bed. Hmm. He needs some comforting hugs, I think. (hugs plushie) More Phantom cookies if you review, although the chappie was kind of short, I know, and I took forever, again. My muse was not cooperating. I don't think this chapter wanted to be written. Neccessary, though, for the plot. I'll try to update faster next time. Keep reviewing, I LOVE reviews!

P.F.A.


	11. Chapter 11

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Me not owns them. Nu-uh.

Erik: Now be sure to apologize...

Me: Oh, the delay was SO your fault! You didn't like anything I wrote!

Erik: Because it was crap, dearest!

Me: grumbles I hate it when you're right!

THANKS to those who still have patience with me and my story, it's flowing more smoothly again, updates should come faster now. And a special thank you to those who wished me a happy birthday last Saturday. I'm eighteen now, so there's nothing in Germany I can't do. :) hehe...

Chapter Eleven

Weeks had passed, then months. The divorce between Christine and Raoul had been finalized, and the former Vicomtess had moved in with the ballet mistress Meg Giry.

Parisian High Society was in an uproar. Everyone was speculating about who had betrayed whom and what third parties might have been involved… Of course, nobody thought of the incident eighteen years ago or of the Opera Ghost still hungering for Christine's love.

And why would they think of him? For the past weeks, she had not set foot into the opera and all seemed lost, until, one fine day that announced the coming of spring, her two daughters met.

Madeleine had received Julie's letter asking her for that meeting and agreed readily.

Rehearsals were in progress, but near their end, so they could speak in one of the prop store rooms without having to fear detection.

Madeleine had only been waiting for a few minutes when the door opened and Julie slipped inside.

Without saying a word, the sisters embraced.

"I'm glad to see you are well again," Madeleine said, her eyes brushing over the new scar on Julie's otherwise flawless forehead.

"It was not as bad as it looked at first," the younger one answered with a shrug. A smile passed over her features. "I'm so glad to see you again! I was afraid my parents would never let me out of the house again." Her smile faded again. "At least, my father. Mama has left, as you probably know. I don't see her every day, but she will have dinner with us tomorrow."

Madeleine put a comforting hand on Julie's shoulder. "You will be fine! At least you still see her, that's more than I can say. But I must say, I am surprised that the Vicomte would let you come here by yourself!"

Now it was Julie's turn to look surprised.

"I did not come by myself, he came with me. As a matter of fact, he is downstairs by the lake as we speak, to talk to Monsieur Erik!"

If Madeleine's eyes had gone any wider, they would have fallen from their sockets.

"Raoul… talking to my papa? And you think that will end well, without them killing each other?"

dbdbdbdb

Erik was indeed not very happy about this meeting the Vicomte had asked him to in a letter, but he had decided to be patient.

Now, as he stood on the shore of the lake, cracking his knuckles, he almost regretted the decision.

Finally, Raoul appeared.

"Excuse my delay," he said as introduction. "The managers caught me on the stairs, some important decision bothered them…"

He met Erik's cold stare and fell silent.

"What do you want from me, Vicomte?" the Phantom asked, his tone distinctively bored.

"I want you to come and talk to Christine, tonight. She will be having dinner with me and Julie, I want you to come."

"You are insane, boy!"

"Don't call me that," Raoul said, now scowling at Erik's condescending manner. "I am almost fourty, monsieur, and I am concerned for her. We might not be married anymore, but she is still the woman I love and the mother of my child. And since she falsely accused Madeleine of hurting Julie, she has not been herself. During the last nights she was at my house, I heard her crying, all night long. She doesn't sleep more than perhaps three hours a night, she hardly eats… I doubt you would recognise her, she is but a shadow of her former self. She needs your forgiveness, Erik, please! Your forgiveness and…" he added in a bitter voice, "your love! As you need hers!"

The shell around Erik's heart cracked, then crumbled.

"I would forgive her in a heartbeat, Raoul. But it is not I she hurt. She must have Madeleine's forgiveness. Still, I will come tonight, to speak to her." He sighed. "What is it about this woman that makes the air grow stale and the sun grow dull when she is not around?"

"I don't know," Raoul replied with a sigh of his own, "I never figured it out, and I was married to her for eighteen years."

dbdbdbdb

Julie was nervous. She had been talking to her sister for about an hour now and they were getting along perfectly, but the request she was about to make might still be taken the wrong way.

"Maddy?" she began timidly. Her sister smiled at the endearing short form for her name. Not even her father had called her that for a long time.

"Yes?"

"You consider me family, don't you? Like your father?"

"Yes, of course," Madeleine replied, "You are my sister. Why?"

"Well, if I am family, you shouldn't have to wear that mask. I won't be frightened," she added hastily, "I promise! I just want to see you! You, not your mask!"

The older girl cast an uneasy glance her way, but she reached into her hair with shaking hands, untied the straps and pulled the mask off her face. She was awarded with a smile and a firm hug.

"Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

dbdbdbdb

Jean Des Cars, on his way to pick up his sister, heard girls' voices as he passed a store room on his way to the backstage area.

A pleasant, high voice said with a laugh, "Come on, Madeleine. Mama said your father sings more beautiful than all the angels, and you have his talent. Please, just a little bit, for me! Sing!"

He stopped, curious, and listened. Then a voice replied. It was the softest, most gentle voice he had ever heard. It conjured images of honey and velvet, of soft fingers caressing skin… Then, it dawned on him that he had heard the voice before. The woman at the Bal Masque, the one he had assisted. She had only spoken a few words, but he had never been able to forget it.

"Very well, you little pixie. But let me tell you, you can't charm your way through everything." She was joking, there was laughter in her voice.

And then she began to sing.

And for a moment, Jean was sure he had died and gone to heaven. The voice sent his soul to high heavens. It was almost too beautiful to be real, too perfectly pitched, too easily climbing from the highest soprano to an almost alto range, dancing through the air. He paid no attention to the words, he just listened. And then he knew that he had to find out who this woman was. After all, he had only seen her at the Masquerade.

So he approached the entrance, turned the knob and opened the door…

dbdbdbdb

Madeleine had sung a song her father had written for her two years ago. It was called 'Endless' and it had been his birthday present for her.

Julie was in tears by the time her sister had finished singing. The song was complicated and nobody with a smaller range than Madeleine could have sung it. Even Christine would have had difficulties.

Madeleine laughed at the rapture in Julie's eyes and gracefully tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"That was wonderful," Julie exclaimed, "and you have to…" She was interrupted by a shout.

"Good God!"

They turned to the door, and the man who had just entered. Madeleine recognized him at once as Jean Des Cars, brother of Suzette, the ballerina.

He was easily the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall, at least two inches over six feet, and had a perfect masculine figure, with broad shoulders, long legs and strong arms. His hands were big, yet long and graceful.

From a distance, his eyes might have seemed blue, but up close, Madeleine recognized them as greyish green, deep and mesmerizing. Dark eyebrows, a high forehead and cheekbones and the strong chin added to that and the dark, unruly curls of his hair provided the perfect frame.

But what drew Madeleine's attention most of all were his lips. The looked soft and sensual, and it took Erik's daughter a long moment to come out of her dream world and realize that his perfect face was set in a grimace of disgust.

She rose from her seat and took a step toward him, without being quite sure what she wanted to say.

She didn't get the chance anyway, for the moment he saw the nightmarish creature come close, Jean turned and fled.

Madeleine felt an icy numbness spread through her body. As she slowly sank to her knees on the floor, she didn't notice Julie's quiet sobbing, nor her own tears that streamed down her face and onto the mask she held between her limp fingers.

A/N: Erik is being really mean to me as of late. He doesn't like anything I write, but I brought him new music sheets, so now he's occupied with composing more music and I can write in peace. Tell me your thoughts. REVIEW! Oh, and whoever guesses what actor I based Jean on (it's not hard, just think back a little) and what his future role will be, will get their very own Erik-plushie to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do you part!

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	12. Chapter 12

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I own copies of the books by Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay, and copies of the movie soundtrack, both in English and German. I own several drawings of Gerard Butler, because I did those myself, but that's it...

Erik: AND your Erik plushie! (She doesn't even really have one, just let her believe that, it makes her happy)

Me: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I don't own Erik, though, he's just living with me for a while.

Erik: The food is good and she lets me play my music. I can't complain.

Me: (whispers) Just don't tell him that Christine came by looking for him and I told her to hit the pavement. He might be a little mad!

THANKS to my reviewers. You make me do happy-dances!

And Wendela dearest, the song IS sung by Minnie Driver, really. I don't say that stuff unless I can prove it, so here, some facts about the movie from the Internet Movie Database (IMDb):

- The singing voice for Minnie Driver was provided by Margaret Preece, a singing teacher from Solihull, UK.

- Although Minnie Driver's singing voice was dubbed by a vocal double in the film, she does contribute the film's end title song, "Learn To Be Lonely," written specifically for the film by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Check it yourself if you don't believe me:) As for your other critiscism, I won't comment on that, just see if you like this chapter better! I'm not mad, don't get that impression, please! I aim to please, after all:)

Chapter Twelve

Jean was halfway down the corridor, when he heard the frantic cries of the younger girl.

"Maddy, say something. Don't just sit there like that, you're scaring me! Madeleine! Maddy, wait!" The voice had changed from frantic to sad.

He realised what he had done, how much he had hurt that young woman. Feeling disgusted with himself, he turned back, sprinted down the hallway and back into the room.

The older girl was gone. The other one was still sitting on a large bolt of cloth, tears on her face, but the sobbing had ceased.

"Where is she?" he asked, a little breathless.

"Gone," the girl replied with anger in her voice, "why? Haven't you hurt her enough? She is just a woman like any other, with a heart that can very easily be broken!"

"I wanted to apologize," Jean mumbled, feeling lost. And as he stood there, his gaze fell upon the mask on the floor, which he recognized from the ball. He picked it up, and as he stared into the fake visage's empty eyeholes, the vivid image of her face seemed to pale before his inner eye. Instead, the memory of her voice returned.

Perhaps not all angels were beautiful…

dbdbdbdb

Erik entered the Chagny mansion with a feeling of trepidation. He would have preferred to stay at home, after what a still shaken Julie had told him.

He and Raoul had picked her up in the dressing room, and she had told of their encounter with the young aristocrat, but Erik knew all too well that Madeleine would want to be left alone.

So he had gone with the de Chagnys.

Raoul made him enter the dining room alone. He and Julie would wait another twenty minutes.

The room, like every other one in the mansion, was large and elaborately decorated. High arching windows opened up to the magnificent garden with its rose bushes, flower beds and trees. In Spring and Summer, that must have been a sight to behold, but now there were no blossoms, no leaves, only the bare skeletons of plant life, hardly a comforting view.

There was a large piano made out of mahogany, which Erik's fingers were almost itching to try out, and the huge dining table with its ten chairs was set for four. Highly detailed tapestries adorned the walls and a picture of Christine in her costume as Marguerite hung over the marble fireplace. In all the splendour of this aristocrats' home, a silent figure almost passed unnoticed. At least she would have, had she not been the centre of Erik's world, the subject of his thoughts and the purpose behind his every breath, no matter how much she had wronged him.

Christine was already seated at the table, gazing out the window with a forlorn expression on her face. She was dressed in a grey satin dress, with black stitching at the hem and a ornate picture of a rose on the bodice. The dress was long sleeved and had a fairly high neckline. It made her look older and more conservative than Erik had ever seen her. Her long hair had been put up in a simple chignon.

The Vicomte had been right. There were heavy bags under her eyes and she had clearly lost weight. Her cheeks were hollow and even her hair had lost some of its natural lustre.

At the sound of the door closing, she turned around and gasped when she saw him standing there. Her heartbeat quickened. He was dressed in immaculate evening clothing, as usual. The black suit with the dark burgundy brocade waistcoat accentuated his tall, slender figure and the only sign that age didn't pass him by was the one silver strand in his black hair, which was combed back over his head. The golden eyes bore into Christine's cinnamon ones from behind the white mask.

He didn't say a word, simply opened his arms. And she came. She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest and held on, clutching him with desperation.

"I love you," she whispered again and again, "I love you, I love you, I love you! Forgive me, please!"

He held her just as close. "You know I love you! But Christine, how, how could you? Better yourself, if indeed my daughter gives you a second chance. I don't want to count how many I have given you, or how many you would still deserve!"

"I don't deserve another chance, you're right," she said, pulling away slightly, "but I will take it gladly if it is given."

Erik looked into her eyes and saw just how much she had matured in these past years. He had fallen in love with the innocent girl and now he was discovering the grown woman. And he loved that one even more.

dbdbdbdb

Jean had been wandering the opera corridors for a couple of hours now. His opera cloak had gathered dust and his voice had become hoarse. He was just passing the dressing rooms once more and called out, for maybe the hundredth time that day, "Madeleine! Julie de Chagny said I might find you here! Please, Mademoiselle, if you hear me, speak to me!"

He had almost given up hope when a voice from behind one of the doors answered.

"What do you want from me, Monsieur?"

He tried to open the door but found it locked.

"I wanted to apologize! What I did was unforgivable, I know, but I had to tell you this. You have been on my mind for the entire week!"

The silence lasted for a while, then he heard the key turning in the lock. He waited for the door to open, but since it didn't, he opened it himself and entered.

The dressing room he found was very clean, but apparently wasn't being used. There were no brushes, make up articles or other indicators of an occupant.

A small vanity table, with a matching chair in front of it sat directly across from the door, an armoire and a larger wardrobe occupied the left portion of the room and wall, but what caught the eye most of all was the large wall mirror. It was floor length, with a golden frame and it made the room appear larger, almost as if it were a doorway…

Three rather small gas lamps bathed the room in soft yellow light.

Jean took a few more tentative steps into the room and called out, "Where are you?"

The door fell shut behind him, and he turned around quickly. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the frail figure leaning against the wood.

She wore a black dress with a rather low neckline. Silver stitching on the hem and the sleeves contrasted with the dark velvet. A black cloak with burgundy lining lay around her shoulders and her chocolate coloured curls poured down her back, half hiding the white mask on her face.

He became aware that he was staring and quickly averted his eyes.

Madeleine hadn't paid any attention, though, as she had done some observing of her own. She always watched him, whenever he came to the opera. To her horror, she had found that behind the façade of a living corpse, their was a very vibrant girl's heart and spirit. A heart, which always beat faster when he got close and which almost stopped when he smiled. A heart, which had just now betrayed her and which was still being beaten up by her mind, who told her that opening that door had been a very foolish idea indeed.

It was too late now, anyway, and so she decided to deal with the situation as best she could.

"You have been calling for me all day," she observed, "What do you want, Monsieur Des Cars?"

He was surprised that she knew his name, but after all, if she was friends with the Chagnys, who frequented the Opera Populaire, she might have seen him or Suzette before.

"I wanted to apologize!" he said quickly, "My behaviour was ghastly and I didn't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure you didn't," Madeleine said, the soft timbre of her voice now cold enough to freeze lava. "They never _want_ to... they scream, they stare, they hurt you in what they think is self defence, but they never stop and THINK! Think about that it might be a human being they are hurting... not just a beast!"

Her voice had turned steadily bitterer and she finally pushed away from the door and brushed past Jean to put her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.

And suddenly a realization hit him.

"You're the Phantom of the Opera, aren't you?" She turned around to face him, her amber eyes regarding him with mild amusement.

"Interesting. I talk about wanting to be regarded as human, and you call me a ghost!" Her light laugher didn't sound offended, though. "But yes, you are right," she went on, "I am the one they call the Phantom. One of the two, at least!"

"There are two?" She didn't respond, just smiled knowingly, until Jean gave her an answering, slightly boyish smile and held out his hand.

"Well, Mademoiselle Phantom, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

She didn't take the hand, and her smile lessened. "I doubt you could call it that. You won't see me again."

Jean's face fell. "Please, mademoiselle, don't be angry with me, I beg you," he caught her arm as she walked past him, "I was told to hold onto an angel if I ever found one!"

"I am no angel!"

"I heard you sing. And it certainly felt like heaven!" He released her arm. "I want to get to know you. I won't betray you!"

Madeleine's heart seemed to skip a beat and she felt hot tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. How she hated crying!

"I have to go now," she said finally, "but you'll hear from me."

He was relieved. "Until then, mademoiselle... I'll be waiting."

She smiled and walked past him out of the room, checking first if the dimly lit corridor was empty.

"And I stand by what I said," he called after her, "you are an angel! And beautiful!"

Madeleine ran. She didn't slow down until she had reached the shore of the underground lake, there she broke to her knees, hiding her face in her hands and sobbing. Her heart felt like it was being torn in two and yet… he _had _seen her face.

Hope was a horrible thing to feel.

A/N: Now, this is as detailed as it will get, most likely, at least in regards to what people or things look like. That's just the way I write, sorry. If you don't like it, you won't like the rest of the story either. Which would make me cry... a little... :) Nah, but really, I hope you like it! Let me know, your reviews are appreciated!

Oh, and for those who guessed that Jean is supposed to look like Gerard Butler, here are your Erik plushies! (hands out plushies). And LiTTleLoTTe1991, you get your Madeleine plushie. (hands her one) There you go:)

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	13. Chapter 13

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I still don't own POTO, although I am working on some ingenious plots to get it, some of which involve a time-machine with a flux-capacitor, but unfortunately, I don't own the rights to that either.

OH MY, can it be... an update? WOW, somebody pinch me!

Erik: Ok! (pinches authoress)

Me: Ouch, not so hard!

Erik: Well, you asked for it. Really!

Me: You know, you should be lucky you're a bastard in that evil-yet-seductive kind of way, or I might one day be really miffed at you!

THANKS to ... do I still have reviewers? Is anyone still interested in this? I hope so! Because I actually WANT to finish it!

Ok, so here are my excuses for not updating: last week, I was sick with a fever and everything and Erik had to nurse me back to health with lots of tea and muffins and hugs and cuddle sessions, so I wasn't all THAT keen on getting better... no, honestly, I was really sick. And the week before that, my muse was on vacation. As far as I know, Erik spent the week with Mystic Darkness (Yes, my Erik-muse looks like Gerard Butler, so be happy.) who of course also gets her Erik plushie. There you go! (hands her a plushie)

And you too, annoying spirit, you get your nice plushie thing! (hands her a plushie) Who gave you that name, anyway? I love your reviews! One could almost say that you are like a sister to me!

One short warning before we start with chapter thirteen: Those of you who liked Jean and were hoping for quick fluffly romance: Sorry!

Chapter Thirteen

Dinner turned out to be not as dreadful as Erik had feared. True, there wasn't much of a conversation going on, other than the playful argument Julie and her father had about the several hidden meanings in the opera 'Aida' which Erik could have commented on but chose not to.

Christine was merely picking at her food, which consisted of a perfectly cooked duck with a fine assortment of vegetables and a slightly too-well-done potato _gratin. _Instead, she kept shooting uncertain but happy glances at Erik, as if she couldn't believe he was really by her side. Now and again he would grasp her hand and squeeze it fondly. When she was staring at him in that wide-eyed way, she reminded him of that chorus girl she used to be more than ever.

He wasn't particularly hungry, himself, and was more interested in the wine, although he didn't drink more than one glass, the flavour was exquisite.

He swirled the deep ruby coloured liquid in the glass, watching the play of the candlelight in the little waves it created.

"You know," Julie said, noticing his interest, "that is actually a wine from the Des Cars vineyard. They are very rare!"

Erik raised an eyebrow, although that went unnoticed behind the mask.

"How so?" he inquired.

Raoul put down his fork and picked up the napkin he had deposited on the dove grey pants of his dinner suit.

"Well," he began to explain, "about ten years ago, there was a terrible fire at their estate. Everything burned down, the mansion, the vineyard, the other buildings, everything. Two of the four Des Cars children died, their mother as well, and, you could say worst of all, although that would sound heartless, all the money they had invested in the house was lost, all the priceless paintings burnt to ashes, the golden ornaments melted and many documents and a lot of paper money went up into flame. The family was virtually left with nothing but a name and a huge amount of debts. Five years ago the old Des Cars died. Since then, Jean Des Cars has rebuilt some of the vineyard and a much more modest version of the mansion. Things are looking up for them, but Suzette still won't relinquish her position as a dancer at the Opera."

OooOooO

Monsieur Richard's cackle was one of evil glee as he poured his partner Moncharmin and himself another cognac.

To Jean, they seemed like a couple of vengeful schoolboys. He was already regretting the deal he had made with them, but there was no helping it.

"I knew it was her! It knew it! As soon as you said she was ugly beyond words but with a pretty voice I knew it! And once she trusts you, so will he! And then we will be rid of those bothersome wraiths!" Moncharmin cried excitedly. Richard nodded vigorously.

"Just continue to feign affection," he instructed the young aristocrat, "she will take you to their lair eventually. Remember what's at stake for you, dear Count," he teased, "it would be bad if you couldn't count on your business associates anymore, or come here to see an be seen!"

Jean sighed. "But only because I have no choice! Be assured, messieurs," he said icily, "that I find your behaviour despicable!"

He stood and left the office quickly, slamming the mahogany door behind him. The red velvet and gold atmosphere of the overly decorated room had almost choked him.

The young man was at a loss. He had faced many hardships in his life, but somehow he had always managed to keep his honour as a nobleman. Now that, too, would have to be sacrificed.

His musings were interrupted abruptly when something closed around his throat. A thin rope, it appeared, was pulled tight and yanked him into a side corridor. He felt his back pressed half against the wall's wood panelling, half into another man's chest.

His attacker was about his size and seemed very strong.

As Jean's air supply was cut off and he felt himself choking, his hands clawed weakly at the thin strip of leather.

A cold voice hissed into his ear, "I will teach you to play with my daughter! To use her as prey!"

His lungs were burning, his knees grew weak. The rope was pulled even tighter. Darkness swirled in the corner of his eye when he heard a female voice saying urgently, "NO, Erik, don't!"

Jean's strength waned. He felt his eyes slide shut and his knees begin to buckle. Just before he fainted, he heard Madeleine's voice cry out, "Papa, no!"  
Then darkness claimed him.

OooOooO

A sharp slap across the face brought him back to his senses. He opened his eyes and, after adjusting to his surroundings, which appeared to be a prop storage, his gaze focused on Madeleine, who was standing next to his makeshift bed, hands on her hips and the golden eyes too cold for comfort.

They stared at each other until finally Madeleine spoke.

"I really really wanted to believe what you said back then. I have never in my whole life wanted to believe anything as much as that! The whole day, I spent crying and hoping, and by the time my father came home, I had convinced myself that you had been honest. That _this_ truly didn't bother you!" She yanked off her mask. Jean couldn't help but flinch, and the tears that been gathering in her eyes started to fall.

"I stopped my father from breaking your neck out there because I want to hear it from you, personally!"

He sat up, rubbing his neck which showed red burn marks from the rope.

"What do you want to hear?" he asked, his voice tired, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Do you want to hear how I planned to betray you and your… your father, then. Do you want to hear how the managers approached me with that horrible plan, or that they offered me money and connections with others, such insignificant and worldly things you and your noble friends and family would never consider abandoning your honour for?"

Madeleine was sobbing openly now. Her thin shoulder twitched under the blouse of her midnight blue muslin dress.

"No," she answered, her voice breaking like glass, "I want to hear from you that you lied back there, that none of it was true! I want to know if everything you said in that dressing room was a lie to get my confidence. I want to know if I recklessly gave away my heart to someone who really truly didn't deserve of it!"

He met her gaze finally. A few curls had fallen out of the chignon she had swept her hair up in. Their deep chocolate colour was a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. His heart wanted to break at the tears in her amber eyes, but he knew he owed it to her to be truthful. So he took one of her slender hands in his, ignoring their coldness.

"Yes," he said, "it was all lies. I can't look at you without fear. Your voice is that of an angel, Madeleine, but to look past… _that_… I would need more time! And I doubt you would give me that chance again!" She yanked her fingers out of his grip and covered her face with both hands, her sobs even more heart wrenching. Jean took her shoulders instead. "You did give your heart to someone who didn't deserve. One day, someone will. And then you'll forget what I did to you! You will forget!"

He stood up and left the room, glancing left and right in fear of the vengeful father returning. Behind him, Madeleine's sobs, only slightly muted through the door, had taken a note of desperate anguish.

And yet, while walking swiftly to the exit and out into a rainy afternoon, Jean kept repeating to himself, "You will forget!" while hoping that someday, he would forget the heartache in Madeleine's eyes, or the stabbing pain he had felt himself. And once again, he longed for more courage and a second chance at getting to know that extraordinary woman.

OooOooO

Erik and Christine were waiting for their daughter in the music room of the underground house. It was the most comfortable room of all, decorated with an assortment of instruments from all over the world and, of course, a massive black piano.

Two comfortable armchairs and a couch stood in front of a fireplace to which Erik was tending when Madeleine entered.

One look at her daughter's face was enough to make Christine forget about the apology she had prepared. She simply got to her feet and held out her arms.

And Madeleine took up the offer. She flung herself into her mother's embrace, sobs once more shaking her. Christine held her crying daughter tightly.

"It might not be that bad," she said soothingly, but Madeleine pulled away.

"Oh Maman, you don't know what you're saying. I was foolish to ever expect anything, as he is nothing short of beautiful."  
"Is he?"

"Like an angel sent from heaven to make a lonely heart weep in joy. He has the softest hair in the world, like black satin or the sky at midnight. His eyes appear blue from afar, but green when you get closer. It's a stormy green with a little grey, like that picture I saw of the ocean. His voice wraps around you like a blanket of velvet, and his lips…" she buried her face in her palms, "oh mother, no woman can look upon them without longing to be kissed."

Christine stroked her daughter's hair in comfort. Erik had come over and wrapped an arm around his daughter as well.

"I know I'm being foolish," the girl said quietly, "after all, I've only ever seen him from afar and talked to him once, but somehow… I had a feeling that I was meant to love him. Somehow…" her voice cracked.

"Those things happen," Erik said softly, "it's called love at first sight. It will pass, my dear. You will forget!"

"I should," Madeleine answered weakly, her eyes fixed upon the stain her tears had created on the shoulder of her mother's taffeta blouse, "that's what he said, as well…"

A/N: Poor Maddy. I know how she feels right now... No fun... Anyway, some might think she's overreacting slightly, with saying she loved him and stuff, but keep in mind that she didn't have the opportunity to vent that we have nowadays! So this is the first guy she ever fell for and she knows there won't be many who'd even talk to her! Plus, you have to remember that 'Jean' means Gerry-Butler-hotness! I would cry over losing that! So REVIEW and tell me what you think!

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	14. Chapter 14

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: My plan to finally own POTO is still in the making, but just you wait... eventually...

Now do look at this! _Another_ update! Don't you just want to hug me?

Erik? I always hug you! Nothing special...

Me: I know, you're a sweetheart, but I wasn't talking to you, dear!

Erik: Oh, sorry.

Me: That's quite alright.

THANKS to my faithful and loyal reviewers! This chapter might seem a little rushed again, if it does, I apologize. But the story was just dragging along, and all this information that ... someone... gives and that seemes sort of skipped over is just more boring dialogue that would have needed a setting, so just take it as it is, it gets explained later, I swear!

Chapter Fourteen

Jean hurried up the steps of the Opera foyer. He groaned as he heard Monsieur Richard call his name behind him, but stopped and turned to face the older man.

"Before you say anything," he cut off the manager's attempt to speak, "I will not help you! I refuse to sell a lovely woman's confidence. If you wish to go through with your plan, you will have to find a different pawn!"

Richard listened intently, then shut his mouth, which had been hanging open.

He smoothed the strawberry coloured waistcoat over his ample belly and scratched his grey hair.

"Well," he said with an almost apologetic smile at Jean, who towered over him, "I was going to tell you the deal was cancelled, as well, although my reason was not as… noble. The Vicomte de Chagny has informed me that he will no longer support the Opera Populaire if the 'Ghosts' should come to harm."

Jean nodded curtly and walked away without a greeting.

Suzette was waiting for him at the top of the staircase and together, they left the opera and went out for dinner.

At a rather luxurious restaurant they dined at once every two months – they couldn't afford to go more often- it didn't take long for Suzette to realise that something was wrong with her brother.

She put down her fork so resolutely that Jean flinched at the sound of silver on china.

"What?" he asked, his pleasant baritone voice innocent.

"You can't fool me, Jean," Suzette said dryly, moving her gaze from her brother's eyes only for a second to scowl at the waitress who had passed their table for the fourth time in a minute, shooting dreamy glances at the handsome man. Jean, however, ignored the woman completely.

"What would I want to fool you about?" he asked his sister.

Suzette, though being the younger sibling, had always endeavoured to keep her brother sheltered, an impossibility since the death of their father.

"How would I know?" she replied and brushed her dark curly hair out of her face impatiently. She was not quite as good-looking as her brother. Her nose was slightly too long and her lips too thin, but her eyes were of the same stormy colour. She was the tallest a ballerina could be and always held strict diet, lest she would be unable to go on dancing.

Jean tried and failed to elude the question. "Fine," he resigned, "I met this woman…" and he proceeded to tell Suzette about what happened, even mentioning that said woman had admitted to being the female Phantom of the Opera.

Suzette frowned when he had finished his tale.

"But why in the world did you say you lied? Wasn't that before you were approached by Moncharmin and Richard?"

Jean nodded, but shrugged in the same movement.

"Still, I don't think I could have just told her, 'no, I didn't lie, I just decided later, oh, why not sell the angel out to the managers!'"

"And now?"

"Now nothing! She'll forget."

Suzette regarded him calmly. "You won't though. You would get past her face, wouldn't you?"

He groaned a little. "Suzette, don't start, please! I had almost convinced myself that love at first sight was impossible!"

OoOoO

Christine creased her forehead in concentration. Her small hand hovered over a chess piece, but the knowing smirk on Erik's face told her that the move she was about to make would be a bad one. She pulled her hand back.

Madeleine, who was sitting in an armchair next to them, looked up from the embroidery she was working on and smiled at her mother.

"Don't be fooled," she warned, "Papa always grins like that, whether the move is right or not!"

Christine cast her daughter a thankful glance, while Erik swatted her playfully.

"You're not supposed to give away my secrets!"

The family atmosphere was lovely. The Opera Ghost smiled. It still seemed amazing to him how fast everyone had adjusted to the new situation.

They had already moved most of Christine's belongings into the underground house and the next day, they would be wed before a judge. They would be married! It still seemed surreal to Erik, so he leaned back in his chair, while Christine pondered over her next move, and watched her.

How he loved everything about her, down to the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Most of them had been caused by laughter, only a few by grief. He was glad about that, it pleased him to know that her life with Raoul had been happy.

The Vicomte was another enigma to Erik. He had come to terms with losing his wife to his former rival, apparently, and assigned himself the duty to look out for the little family. Madeleine had –grudgingly at first- forgiven him and, to everyone's amazement, formed something of a soft spot for the man. After Erik had learned about Raoul's letter to the managers, he had asked him about that and the man's answer had left him amazed.

"Look," the Vicomte had said, "Christine is a part of my family, and if you are to be with her, that means you are, too, and Madeleine as well. I will continue to look out for you, Erik, like it or not. You can consider me your annoying little brother from now on!"

When Madeleine had heard him say that, her dry response had been, "Oh, you as my uncle… well, I can picture that family picnic… lovely…"

OoOoO

Erik was pacing the anteroom of the judge's office nervously. Nadir had long since sat down in one of the overstuffed chintz armchairs, but the nervous composer was not to be calmed down.

"She is late, Nadir," he growled.

Nadir, who was dressed up for the occasion in a suit he had only worn twice before and which was just a little tight across the chest, didn't look up from the book he was perusing.

"Aren't women mostly late, especially to their wedding?"

"How would I know?" Erik snapped, but then he sighed and calmed a little, "I'm sorry, my nerves are just... I am afraid that she might still change her mind!"

"Nonsense," Raoul, the only other occupant of the small room, put in, "she wouldn't! And why should she?" He stood at the window, his shoulder leaning comfortably against the frame. His long brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, something Madeleine teased him about often, calling it his last attempt at appearing young. The man gave off an air of complete confidence and comfort, something Erik found in particular disconcerting as it was his ex-wife he was supposed to marry. But he had insisted on being there for the wedding. After all, he had reminded Erik, he had once demanded an invitation for _his_ wedding as well.

"Why indeed," Erik muttered.

Raoul straightened up. "They're here."

The sun had set already as Christine, Madeleine and Julie hurried up the stairs, their long gowns dragging behind them.

"Fina..." Erik had been about to say 'finally', but the word got stuck in his throat when he beheld Christine. She looked beautiful. As this was her second wedding, she didn't wear white, but a magnificent silk gown of forget-me-not blue, with lovely gold lace trimming at the edges of the skirts and the sleeves, and a tight bodice with a still modestly low neckline which was decorated with dozens of small pearls. Her dark mass of curls had been pulled up and braided into an elaborate crown, with only one loose curl that lay over her porcelain shoulder.

Madeleine and Julie followed her, both in matching dresses of dove grey satin. Their hair had been left open and one white rose each was tucked into the curls.

The younger girl was giggling at the besotted expressions on the adults' faces, while her older sister watched it with a slightly melancholy smile.

Raoul broke the spell Erik was under by announcing, "It is time!"

The masked man was sure it was all a dream, as he was standing with Christine in a cramped little office that smelled of old wood and candle smoke and repeated the words that would bind the woman of his dreams to him.

"Monsieur and Madame Lescaut ... my congratulations." The portly little man smiled at the newlyweds over the rim of his spectacles.

Erik and Christine stared at each other, completely enraptured and Julie couldn't help but giggle again. The judge, a good friend of the de Chagny family, had disregarded the masks Madeleine and her father wore, but she had not failed to notice the compassionate smile he had given her. For once, she did not care.

She just smiled back and made a nice curtsey before turning toward the door.

The small crowd left, Raoul complimenting the judge on his service as the others filed out of the room.

Erik, dressed in a fine new black suit with a crisp white silk shirt, a cravat that was tucked in just so and a midnight blue brocade waistcoat, held her hand tightly as they walked out onto the street, his eyes wandering from the golden wedding band on her hand to her face and back again.

"You will trip if you don't start looking at where you're going," Christine teased him gently, "and you wouldn't want to miss the party, after Meg went through so much trouble to prepare dinner!"

Erik nodded, until something occurred to him.

"You still haven't told me where this 'party' is going to happen. Not in our house, surely."  
"No, don't worry. But since there are no performances today and the Opera is empty already..."

OoOoO

"…on the STAGE? Heavens, whose idea was that?" Raoul exclaimed with a laugh as he saw the large table set for seven, with an equal number of chairs and the four candelabras on the large stage of the Opera Populaire. The curtains were drawn back and Julie squealed in delight and ran to up and down the grand space, leaping and twirling in her best impression of a ballet dancer.

"Mine," Madeleine said with a smile, "after all, it's here Papa first saw Mother, so I thought it would be a nice idea."

"It is," Raoul agreed, "but you know you'll have to sing for us later tonight."

Madeleine shrugged. Singing in front of these people didn't frighten her in the least.

Erik, meanwhile, was examining the table, which was groaning under the weight of the dishes Meg had prepared.

"How many guests are you expecting, mademoiselle?" he quipped.

The food was excellent. Christine wiped her mouth on her napkin after having finished the dessert, a very nicely done 'crème brûlée', and complimented Meg, "My dear friend, you have not followed your true calling, you have wasted your time on ballet when you should have become a chef!"

Meg laughed. "Oh, a very nice introduction! Now that we're talking about true calling, you and Monsieur Erik _have_ to sing for us!"

Erik held up his hand. "Not for another half hour, at least, dear Meg. It does not do to sing on an overstuffed stomach, I would sound like Piangi!"

The other adults laughed at that, the two girls exchanged smiles Julie raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," she called, "if you will not sing, then Maddy has to!"

Madeleine nodded in agreement, placing her napkin back upon the table and standing up. She walked a few steps away from the table and silence fell over the gathering.

Then she began to sing, her voice a silken caress of sound, as soft as feather and as strong as the foundations of the earth, again carrying all the emotions of her passionate heart.

"Child of the wilderness  
Born into emptiness  
No longer lonely  
Light has found your heart in darkness She will be there for you!  
Comfort and care for you!  
No longer lonely  
Light has found your heart in darkness Used to dream that out in the world  
No one's arms would hold you  
You should have known  
Her heart was like your own So laugh out of joyfulness  
Child of the wilderness  
No longer lonely  
Light has found your heart in darkness No longer lonely  
Life can be lived  
No need just to live alone."

A/N: So, bet you didn't see it coming... euh... oh well, bet you wouldn't have guessed they would get married ALREADY! Anyway. I hope you caught Erik's last name there! As for Jean/Madeleine, more of that to come in next chapter. Some angst, too, I think. Alright, let me know your thoughts on the chappie, see you soon, adieu!

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	15. Chapter 15

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Hmm... If only I owned POTO... if only Gerry Butler were mine to hold and cuddle... if only chocolate grew on trees...

Erik: Would you really want chocolate to grow on trees?

Me: I don't know. I think I'd be too tempted to eat it then. Let's change the topic.

Erik: Ok. Why do you want to hold and cuddle Gerry Butler when you've got me?

Me: Good question... Because I imagine him to be not quite so moody! And _don't_ give me that look now... Primadonna!

THANKS to my oh-so-wonderful reviewers! Thanks to you I now have an ego the size of Germany! Hehe... I hope you still like me as much after this chapter... By the way, I was going to update yesterday, but wouldn't let me. So don't blame me, please! I tried!

Chapter Fifteen

Erik and Christine were singing a duet from 'Faust', and everyone was enraptured. How could it be, Madeleine mused, that vocal cords became the instrument of such a heavenly sound? She had been told that her voice held power similar to her father's, but she doubted that. The dazed expressions on Meg's and Julie's faces were priceless.

Only Raoul was watching everything with a very wistful smile and a strange shimmer in his eyes betrayed his emotions.

True enough, the Vicomte couldn't keep his eyes off Christine, even through the veil of tears in his eyes. She had never really sung whilst married to him, only to put the baby Julie to sleep. And never had he seen her with such a brilliant smile.

He missed her already. He missed her so much it almost tore his heart out. To be here, to see her get married to another man, his rival, was a horrible torment for him. Still, he couldn't just walk away, he had to see her still, he had to make sure everything was in order, so that this new mad life of hers would not take a turn for the worse… And yet, for once, it was not Erik's fault, nor Christine's… his, perhaps, yet he couldn't ponder too long on the what could have happened had he not taken Madeleine away, for it would surely drive him insane.

For a fleeting moment, he lost his composure and exhaled shakily, almost like a sob. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed it. Most of them were still listening to the beautiful duet, only Madeleine's eyes were not fixed on them. They gazed at him with compassion and understanding, and for a moment, her bony fingers touched his arm. She leaned in and whispered, "We're even, Raoul!"

OooOooO

She knew she shouldn't be here. The goose bumps on her arms and the coldness of her hands and feet betrayed her guilty conscience, even to herself.

Her feet, stuck in ordinary ballet slippers, made no sound in the dimly lit corridor, and her tutu whispered only slightly, as she drew nearer to the dressing room Jean had told her about.

Suzette cast one glance behind her before she reached for the doorknob and pulled. The door squeaked slightly and gave her a horrible start, but the room behind it was empty, yet the lights were lit.

True, everything looked much to clean and too well furnished to be quite as unused as the managers had proclaimed it to be.

She entered, carefully closing the door behind her. After a few seconds of simple steadying her breath and calming down, she began inspecting the drawers of the armoire, the vanity table and the divan.

It was pure luck that she had just opened the doors of the huge wardrobe when she heard footsteps. Quickly, she stepped inside and pulled the doors almost shut. Cloaks and dresses hung around her. Strangely though, none of them smelled old or dusty, like forgotten costumes. Someone –Madeleine, probably- had to be using them still.

Through a small space in between the two doors, she could make out the room around the vanity.

A strange sound caught her attention, like a light door with well oiled hinges opening, that was slightly too big for its frame, but it was on the wrong side of the room. Unless the tall mirror didn't only give the impression of a doorway…

A figure walked by the closet, a small, thin woman in a dress of burgundy taffeta with long, wide sleeves made of a lacy fabric in the same colour. Her hair was a mass of curls that poured down her back and Suzette was just about to decide that she was quite pretty when she beheld her face. Only, it wasn't a face at all, it was a mask of white satin with neutral features. The lips and chin that showed were almost as white as the mask, a distinctly unhealthy pallor.

Through the eyeholes of the mask burned a pair of golden eyes, glowing in the dim light of the gas lamps.

The woman's thin and extraordinarily long fingers reached for a brush in one of the drawers and put it on the vanity table. Then she reached into her long hair and undid the straps of her mask.

Before she pulled it off, she turned away from the mirror. Then she laid it onto her lap and reached behind her for the brush to comb out her curls.

In the closet, Suzette was frozen in terror. How could such a being be alive?

The golden eyes, so full of life behind the mask, were sunken in their sockets and their intensity only made the skull-like appearance of those sunken sockets even worse. Her cheeks were thin as well, her whole face bony and pale. Parchment-like skin was stretched over the bones and purplish veins showed clearly at her temple.

Oh, how Suzette wanted to close her eyes, to block out the nightmare, yet she could not. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, a knock on the door interrupted the woman who looked like a walking corpse.

Quickly, she rearranged the mask on her face and called out, "Come in, Raoul!"

A man entered, whom Suzette, to her surprise, recognized as the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, who had been the focus of one of Paris' scandals three months ago, when his wife divorced him only to marry another man barely a month later.

She had met Raoul at the opera a couple of times, as he was the patron and he had always seemed nice and controlled to her. Now, however, he looked dishevelled. His hair was unkempt, his shirt was buttoned the wrong way and he wore no vest under his brown suit jacket and coat.

He had obviously run a good way, for he was out of breath and it took him a few moments before he had regained the power of speech.

"What is it?" the woman asked, concerned, grasping his hands in hers.

The Vicomte looked into her eyes and, with a sharp intake of breath that sounded almost like a sob, spoke.

"Madeleine, it's terrible. Julie is… she's very ill. Her fever is so high, she is burning up. She won't take any water, she barely even recognizes me. I can't have dinner with your family today, I must get back immediately. I only wanted to see if maybe Christine would accompany me. Julie… needs her. And so do I!"

The woman – Madeleine?- nodded. She looked very shaken. After a moment, she let go of one of Raoul's hands and pulled him away.

Again, Suzette heard the sound of the door in its small frame. It had to be the mirror. Then, when she was sure that they had left, she climbed out of the wardrobe. Only a soft fragrance of roses still lingered where Madeleine had stood. She shuddered. Suddenly, she whished she could take back her encouragement of her brother to speak to her again. The fierce eyes from that dead face had burned themselves into her memory, and although she felt shallow herself, she couldn't help but be frightened at the possibility of ever meeting that… creature… face-to-face.

OooOooO

"…and then they left!" Suzette finished telling Jean about the conversation she had overheard. He was slightly angry at her for endangering herself so by going into that room, but he knew how nosy his sister was.

What startled him more had been the remark about Christine being part of Madeleine's family. He was sure that the woman in question was the former Christine Daée de Chagny, now Christine Lescaut who had caused such an uproar by marrying someone no one had ever seen or heard of.

Should this man be the stranger, Erik, who had almost killed him that night, Madeleine's father? And would that make her the singer's stepdaughter? Or…?

He firmly shook himself out of his thoughts and stood up from the narrow couch he had been sitting on, picked up Suzette's cloak and offered it to her.

"We should get home, Suzi."

She stared at him, slightly affronted. "That's all you have to say about that?"

He sighed impatiently. "Everyone else has left, it's almost midnight, we still haven't had dinner, I'm hungry and I had not planned to stay in your dressing room overnight, so would you please move!"

She folded her arms across her chest in a gesture of defiance. "Not until you tell me what you think about all that!"  
"Suzette Des Cars, you're behaving like a spoiled little child, it's most undignified," he scolded her, his baritone voice holding a light teasing tone, "but suit yourself!"

With these words, he put her cloak down again and walked out of the dressing room, ignoring her angry howl behind him.

She joined him a moment later outside, but refused to speak to him on the way to their house.

The silence suited Jean quite well, though, as the gentle rocking of the carriage and the feel of the fresh night air were soothing.

His thoughts returned once more to Madeleine. Someone close to her was unwell, that he knew now. So he resolved to contact her the next day. He even had a plan how. It was time for him to find out whether Tier One Box Five was called the Ghost's box for a reason…

OooOooO

Madeleine watched the clock in the study nervously. It was six o'clock in the morning. Her parents should have been home an hour ago.

Was Julie so very sick? Raoul had not said much, only that her fever was insanely high and then he had dragged Christine and Erik with them.

She had been left behind, as too many visitors might disturb the ill girl.

Madeleine sighed. Her long fingers played with a dried rose, which had once been white and was now a yellowish grey. It was the rose she had been wearing in her hair on the day of her parent's wedding three weeks ago.

Had it really only been three weeks? It seemed like forever, but really, only such a small amount of time had passed. Julie had been fine three weeks ago and she hadn't seen her sister since then.

And now? How sick was she?

The girl shifted uneasily on the ground in front of the fireplace, her simple taupe muslin dress already showing creases.

The sound of the front door opening gave her a horrible start. She leapt to her feet and almost ran into her father as he entered their home. He pulled off the mask and the grave expression on his distorted features, along with her mother's continued absence, told Madeleine a lot without question.

She asked, anyway, "How…how bad is she?"  
Erik put a comforting hand on her shoulder before answering softly, but with a light tremor in his gentle tenor voice, "She fell into a coma last night. Several physicians have seen her and the consensus is…"

"Is what? _What?_"

"If she doesn't wake up before the week is over, nothing else can be done for her!"

Madeleine felt her face contort in pain, even before her mind had registered the dreadful news.

"B-but… she will wake up," she stuttered, "won't she?"

At that point, Erik could no longer meet her gaze.

"Probably not, child. The doctor told Raoul to… say goodbye."

Suddenly, the room seemed to start choking her. Gasping for breath and trying to keep her threatening tears in check, Madeleine ran past her father, her skirts billowing behind her. She ran over the narrow ledge along the lake, up the stairs… she didn't stop running until she finally collapsed in the comfortable dark and cool interior of Box Five. There, she finally allowed herself to cry.

A/N: So, there you go. Chapter Fifteen. REVIEW! I hope you know I'm aiming for more than 200 reviews till Chapter 20!

A short notice in regards to the future of the Jean/Madeleine realtionship: As you can read in my profile, I'm an 18 year-old girl who you could call "Phluffy" as a nickname. D'you get my meaning?

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	16. Chapter 16

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: ... Just in case you forgot: I don't own POTO!

Erik: So, this story is very nearly done, isn't it?

Me: Hmm, I don't know if I'd say _very_ nearly. Four more chapters!

Erik: And then?

Me: Don't worry, I already have the sequel planned. Don't know about that prequel, though, I kinda like adult!Maddy, I'm not really in the mood for child!Madeleine.

THANKS to my almighty reviewers! It's cute how you're all concerned for Julie. Doesn't help much, I'm afraid, but it's still cute. I apologise if this chapter is slow or short or whatever, but, as you know, even chapters like this one are important to the story.

Chapter Sixteen

Christine sat at her daughter's bedside, eyes never leaving the flushed face and the knotted brow of her little angel. She only moved to take one of Julie's hot hands in her own or to wipe away the beads of perspiration that glistened on the sick girl's forehead.

Her sleep had been fitful a while ago, now it was calm and quiet, but not in a good way. Her spirit was leaving her, so the doctor had said. Her petite body might have already given up the fight.

Christine couldn't cry anymore. The tracks of dried tears were still visible on her face, but she calmed down somewhat. Her daughter needed her strong until whatever end.

Erik had left an hour ago. He, too, was worried for Julie who had always been kind to him and who had become such a loved companion to Madeleine.

Her thoughts went back to shortly after her eldest daughter's birth, when she had still thought she had given birth to a dead child and might never conceive again.

Raoul had assured her time and time again that he loved her regardless and that they would be happy without children, but Christine had always felt empty, especially in the first months after Madeleine's birth, when her breasts ached because no child was there to feed upon the milk that filled them to the bursting point. Her arms seemed too light without the sweet weight of a babe in them and she sometimes lay awake in the night, listening to the non-existent cries of an infant.

Julie's birth had filled that void after almost two years of mourning and longing for the fulfilment that, in Christine's opinion, only motherhood could bring.

And yet, even while with Raoul, she had never forgotten the path with Erik she might have taken, had fate not prevented it.

Now she had indeed walked down that path and now Julie lay dying. Was this her punishment? Was this the price she had to pay for Erik's love?

A candle on Julie's bedside table flickered and died, it's wick drowned in the molten wax.

Christine rose from her chair, the skirts of her scooped neck dress of pale blue linen making soft whispering noises, and used a match to free it, then re-lit the candle.

Before she sat back down, she looked around the room and remembered the way she had decorated it eighteen years ago, in happy expectation of her first child.

She remembered how she had so carefully selected the pale yellow colour of the walls and how she had personally sewed the golden curtains. Those and the wall colour were the only remainders of that child's room it used to be. Where the oak wood crib had rested now stood Julie's mahogany four-poster bed, with golden drapes matching the curtains.

A thick carpet in dark blue softened the sound of footsteps, and so Christine was startled when suddenly Raoul placed his hand on her shoulder.

He was dressed in loose-fitting slacks and a white shirt that was only partly tucked in. His soft brown hair was left open and hanging around his face in tousled strands.

The shadows under his eyes were so dark that they almost resembled bruises and the hand that was not resting on Christine's shoulder was clutching a cognac snifter, though he hadn't taken more than one or two sips from it.

"No change?" he asked, his voice hoarse and low.

"None," she replied, "she is just a little calmer now."

Raoul removed his hand from her shoulder and sat down on the chair next to hers. His sapphire eyes were fixed upon his daughter's bluish eyelids and her parted lips, which very pale and dry.

"I can't lose her," he said simply, "I just can't. I'd have nothing left. I let you go because I still had Julie, and now…"

Christine silenced him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Don't think about it too much. Pray for her and be there for her when she needs you, whatever happens." Her eyes glistened, but she was past the point the tears. "It's all we can do, Raoul!"

OooOooO

Sitting once more in a darkened corner of Box Five and glancing out over the auditorium, which was beginning to fill up dancers and chorus members getting ready for rehearsal, Madeleine pondered over the question of what was worse: being sick or loving someone who was sick yet being utterly useless.

She couldn't really decide on the issue, as she had never been severely ill herself. She had been injured many times, to the point of life-threatening injuries and she knew that had caused her father many a headache, but she had never been the victim of an illness.

As for being useless, well, she was beginning to get to know the feeling.

After having calmed down somewhat, she had returned to her subterranean home, once more begging her father to take her with him when he returned to the Chagny estate, as he was preparing to after gathering some clothes and toiletries for Christine, but he had steadfastly refused, arguing that he was unsure whether Julie could endure having so many visitors at once.

Tomorrow, he had promised, he would take her with him.

Madeleine sighed heavily. Tomorrow might be too late.

In the eternal gloom of their house, the whole weight of the Opera seemed to be pressing down on her once more, so she had only changed out of her crumpled dress into a soft mulberry taffeta gown. It had long wide sleeves, a scooped neckline and full skirts. The décolletage was trimmed in black lace.

Here, in Box Five, she sat upon a small footstool, her back against the hollowed pillar that she had also used as an entrance. The mask lay discarded on a seat cushion, so the cool and slightly damp air could reach her face.

The orchestra was warming up, the profane chatter and laughter of the ballet girls, as usual conducted in voices which were far to shrill and loud for comfort drifted up to the boxes. Life went on as usual. Nobody knew that the patron's daughter was fighting for her life.

A fight, Madeleine brutally reminded herself, she was probably going to lose. She closed her eyes, a sense of defeat washing over her. Finally, the lack of sleep caught up to her and she dozed off.

Thus she was unaware of the door opening, the velvet curtain being pushed aside and another's presence in the box.

Jean looked down onto her sleeping for, deeply surprised at having found her here, off guard, for once. He slipped the short letter he had prepared back into the pocket of his charcoal coloured suit jacket, smoothed his black cravat, ran his fingers nervously through his dark chocolate curls and then knelt down to gently shake her shoulder.

What he did not expect was to receive a vicious blow to the chin which threw him backwards.

Madeleine, scared to death by the sudden touch, leapt to her feet and raised her hands defensively.

Jean came to his feet slowly, holding his jaw. Her knuckles had hit him hard and he was surprised at the strength in her small lithe body.

His grey-green eyes met her golden ones and her posture relaxed.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply.

He gave a half shrug.

"I wanted to talk to you again. I wanted to apologize and ask you for another chance at getting to know you. As you know, thanks to Raoul de Chagny's intervention, the managers are no longer concerned with finding you. And I know you're not well at the moment, so I thought… perhaps you'd need a friend."

Madeleine turned half away, one hand coming up to press against her deathly pale lips, which were shaking under a new threat of tears.

"Don't be nice to me," she whispered brokenly, "I couldn't bare it!"

Suddenly, he was right in front of her, his strong arms encircling her frail body and pulling her close. His embrace was light enough to break, but firm enough to make her feel held and secure.

Madeleine froze. She'd never been held before by anyone but her father, and she had certainly never felt this way. Warmth seemed to rush through her entire body, accumulating in her head and her belly. Hesitantly, she brought up her own arms to wrap around his waist under his opera cloak and put her head on his chest. It was only when she felt the silk of his shirt against her bare skin that she realized that she hadn't been wearing her mask during the entire exchange and that he had embraced her regardless.

At that thought, she buried her face in the ruffles on his shirt and the brocade of his waistcoat and cried.

Jean kept an arm securely around her with his one hand on her shoulder, while running his other hand gently through her curls.

"I'm with you," he whispered, "I'll never hurt you again, I swear it!"

Madeleine held onto him, as if afraid he'd disappear if she let go for a second. A strange emotion tore at her heart. It was both the saddest and the happiest moment of her entire life.

A/N: Poor Maddy. She needs comfort, too, so she turns to the one person who'll give her that. Good for Jean, though. He could have met angry!Madeleine and a very punjab-ish end! So tell me your thoughts, as usual. There will be some more about the wedding (night (?)) and the first time after it in upcoming chapters.

Here, all of you, have a slice of cake. It's Erik's and Christine's wedding cake (yes, annoying spirit. Evil was stirring in Mordor! Sauron made them a cake!) but Meg made too much, since she herself doesn't even eat sweets. (In case you're wondering, it's a chocolate cake with whipped cream and nougat decoration. Very heavy! So if it's too sweet for you, have some more Phantom cookies, Erik made another batch, they're not quite so sugary.)

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	17. Chapter 17

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO, but stealing it is on top of my to-do list!

OooOooO

Chapter Seventeen

Darkness… all around her was darkness… everything was black, everything but this one speck of light. It wasn't even real light, more of a… feeling. A sound, perhaps. A voice! Yes, surely a voice.

It seemed to try and draw her out of this transitory state, this halfway point between life and death.

And her spirit was prepared to follow that voice, to allow it to be led back to light, to life. But then the voice faded, and she was once more left in the darkness…

OooOooO

Erik seized singing softly to Julie as he heard Christine call him. He stood up from that chair at Julie's bedside and joined his wife in the corridor.

"Raoul has called Father Bertram. He will be here in a couple of minutes!" she informed her husband, "and he wants you and I to go out of sight."

Erik frowned behind the mask.

"What on earth did he call a priest for?"

Christine's voice broke and she shut her eyes.

"Last rites."

Erik's frown deepened.

"Why? Why! Give her a chance! You're all giving up hope!"

Christine felt tears threatening to spill as she placed a hand on her husband's arm. "That's because there is none, Erik. The physicians said so!"

"Well, you're quick to abandon her!" he yelled.

Suddenly, the mask was ripped of his face from the forceful blow her small hand had delivered to his cheek.

"Don't you dare say that!" she hissed under tears. "Don't you dare think that I wouldn't give everything for my child! It kills me to see her like that. It kills me to know she'll die, it kills me to think that I'll be this empty inside forever, because a part of me will die within the week! But I want to know my daughter's soul in heaven, whether you like it or not. You're not _her _father! And if it displeases you so much, then you should leave!"

She turned and fled, her skirts billowing behind her and almost getting caught in the music room door which she tried to slam behind her.

Erik took a deep breath, then followed her.

She stood in front of the huge piano Raoul had bought twelve years ago. Her small palms were pressed against the cool cherry wood surface, her entire body shaking under the satin dress.

Erik stepped close to her, placed his long hands over her thin shoulders and lowered his face into the rose-scented curls.

"Not a month ago, I pledged an oath that I would be by your side for better or worse. I will not break that, not ever."

She turned around and flung her arms around his neck. He picked her up, walked over to the sofa and sat down upon it with her on his lap. She leaned into him and he stroked her curls gently.

Outside, he heard Raoul walk past, along with another man. They spoke in hushed voices and Christine snuggled a little closer to him to stifle her sobs in his crisp white shirt. The priest had arrived.

Looking down upon his crying wife, Erik found it almost impossible to believe that they had been so happy a mere few weeks ago.

After the wedding and the party, they had retired to the underground house. Madeleine had gone straight to bed, claiming the day had exhausted her.

Erik and Christine had stayed awake half the night, rediscovering what it meant to be man and wife. Afterwards, with her sleeping peacefully in his arms, he had been genuinely happy for the first time.

And for a few delusional weeks, he had allowed himself to continue believing that. They had slept late, they had sung and read together, danced around the music room in a bout of sudden childishness and Madeleine had prepared the meals for them and seen to the housework, her way of ensuring them their own sort of honeymoon.

Now, it seemed, fate had returned from its vacation to start torturing him again.

Although he hadn't known Julie for very long, he had always seen her as the perfect blend between the admirable qualities of both Raoul and Christine, with hardly any of their flaws. The only thing she lacked was a singing voice, but he remembered the little pantomime she had put on with Madeleine at the wedding feast. She had acted like an opera singer, her pretty face moving, yet the voice had been his daughter's, who had been crouched on the ground behind her sister's voluminous skirts. Together, they had given the impression of a perfect opera diva.

Madeleine, Erik knew, would be more than heartbroken should her sister die.

She had never before had a friend her own age, someone to accept her so readily. Something was already bothering her, something she refused to speak to her parents about.

Everything, he realized, their entire happiness, rested on the pale little figure in the bed next door. Fate was being a cruel mistress again…

OooOooO

Madeleine's eyes were closed as she let the cool wind play in her curls. How she loved standing on the opera roof. It was the only place these days where she could spend more time without feeling caged and claustrophobic.

It was still rather cold, but she didn't feel it. A warm cloak was wrapped around her, along with a pair of strong arms.

Jean had been with her every day she couldn't spend at Julie's bedside the entire week. That first day she had broken down and told him everything. To her surprise, he had already guessed her relationship to Julie and Christine, but sworn to keep it quiet.

Their was a strange kind of honesty between them now.

Madeleine knew that Jean was still making amends for his past treatment of her, but he was also serious about wanting to get to know her.

Jean was aware of the fact that Madeleine had only opened up to him because of her difficult situation, caused by the impending death of her sister and the lack of someone to talk to.

He enjoyed this quiet time. They did this often, simply standing on the roof, gazing out over Paris in the general direction of the Chagny mansion. Whenever she started to shiver, he placed his cloak around them. To his surprise, it had been Madeleine who had initiated their first embrace under the protective folds of fabric. From that moment on, he had been allowed to hold her. He had yet to see her smile, though.

The mask had been another obstacle they had overcome. Madeleine had been very reluctant about not wearing it in front of him, as she didn't fully trust him yet, understandably. Jean had argued that he wanted to get to know her, all of her, not her voice and a passive piece of satin in place of her face.  
He sighed contentedly. Her hair smelled of roses, and he longed to bury his face in the curls, but as she was much smaller than him, just barely reaching his shoulders, he couldn't do so without it looking like an open advance on her.

He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her, his fingers splayed on the amethyst satin bodice of her dress. Suddenly he felt her tremble. She couldn't be cold, not in his embrace under the cloak, which was made out of thick wool with an extra velvet lining; besides, the evening was rather mild for early spring.

"What is it?" he asked, concern in his masculine voice, a deep baritone that Madeleine had heard in her dreams these past nights. But something else was on her mind.

"It's Friday," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "and the sun is about to set!"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "How is that of any significance?"

She drew a shuddering breath and went on, "Papa is coming home in an hour. We'll go to Raoul's house and… Jean, if Julie doesn't wake up today, the physicians say that she never will. She'll die, she…" She couldn't go on. There were no more tears for her to cry, simply a dry aching in her heart.

Jean turned her around in his arms and placed a chaste kiss on the parchment skin of her forehead. Madeleine flinched, but then her arms wrapped around Jean's neck and she put her head on his shoulder.

He continued to hold her until she had to go to meet her father.

He went home as well, and as the first raindrops fell from the cloudy sky, he was sure he was in love with the mysterious girl. She was utterly fascinating and at the same time, she was a vulnerable woman, needing to be loved and held.

He knew it would not be easy to win her, to even convince her that he truly loved her, but it would be worth the time. He could wait. He could be what she needed.

OooOooO

Madeleine knelt next to her sister's bedside. Julie's skin was pale, yet her cheeks and forehead were flushed. Her eyelids had a slight bluish hue. The skin on her lips was dry and cracking.

She seemed so small in the huge bed, the many feather pillows in their grey pillow cases looked like mountains around her. The simple cotton nightgown in a light eggshell colour almost blended with her pale skin and only the dark mass of curls was a contrast.

Madeleine so longed to see her sister's eyes again, which were the same as her father's, the same sapphire blue, like the sky on a perfect summer day. They had always sparkled with joy. Would they remain closed forever now?

Taking one of Julie's limp hands in her long, cold fingers, Madeleine sat down on the mattress next to her sister. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, willing away the tears. Her mother, she knew, was next door, with Raoul and her papa, being comforted. It was too much for all of them. They had all known their share of despair and, in a way, they had all deserved it. Julie was possibly the only innocent one in the entire family.

With a shaking hand, Madeleine brushed a couple of curls out of her sister's face. She recalled how Julie had once begged her to sing. She would do her that favour, she decided, whether the ill girl would hear her or not.

After a moment, she decided to once more sing "Endless", the song her father had specifically written for her.

And as she sang, pouring her sadness and fear into the song, it began to rain outside. Perhaps, Madeleine thought grimly whilst singing, the angels wept, because one of their own lay dying.

OooOooO

More darkness… but now there were pictures in it, as well. She couldn't place them… it was difficult to concentrate on the pictures and the sounds… a lot of weeping. What was wrong? …the weeping… that was her mama. What made her so sad? She wanted to find out, but darkness once more drew her back in.

A while later… how big a while she couldn't say… an hour? A year? … she heard more music. It was a different voice which sang, one she was more used to, but it was just as beautiful. It was drawing her to that speck of light again, beckoning her back to life. Another picture, this one of Madeleine, her sister. She was singing and crying at the same time. Why was she weeping as well? The light grew dimmer, then it flared up again. The picture flickered for a moment before steadying itself.

Julie blinked. And looked into Madeleine's incredulously staring eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO, but stealing it is on top of my to-do list!

Erik: Why do you always make your readers wait so long for updates?

Me: It isn't intentional. It's just that I have been... blessed... with a rather moody and whiny on occasion, so he's not always much of a help.

Erik: I feel like I've just been insulted!

Me: Ye think?

THANKS to my ever-so-patient reviewers. I've been having a few problems lately and wasn't in much of mood for writing, but now I'm on a roll again, nothing to worry about!

By the way, go read and REVIEW my other one-shot "A girl with no name". Thanks!

OooOooO

Chapter Eighteen

A loud cry, which was broken now and again by sobs, reached Erik and Christine in the drawing room, who took a moment to register that it was Madeleine's voice, coming from Julie's room. Then they both ran to the door, out into the corridor and into the bedroom.

The sight that met their eyes made them stop dead.

Madeleine was kneeling in front of the bed, her arms wrapped around Julie's midsection, her head buried in the folds of her nightgown. Julie's left hand was resting on her sister's shoulder, her other one was gently stroking her curls as she sobbed. The younger girl wore a slightly confused and dazed expression, as if she couldn't imagine what was causing her sister's tears.

Christine pressed a hand to her mouth, then she, too, hurried over and started peppering kisses across Julie's face.

Her skin was cool now and the feverish flush had faded.

Erik leaned back against the doorframe and watched the scene before him with a smile.

All he could see of the three women were their dresses and the mass of chocolate curls. At that moment, they looked so much alike.

Raoul joined them a moment later, his eyes overflowing at the sight of his beloved child and, as Julie was very much wrapped up in arms and hugs already, he turned to Erik and held out his hand, which the older man took and squeezed firmly.

However, another problem soon presented itself as more footsteps were coming up the stairs and Father Bertram's voice asked, "What happened? Vicomte… who are these people?"

OooOooO

An hour later, they were all seated in the drawing room again, except for Julie, who was resting, of course.

Father Bertram had asked about Madeleine and Erik, and finally, Raoul and Christine had told him everything. It had been a long and, on Christine's part, tearful confession.

After it was over, Father Bertram was thoughtfully kneading his bottom lip.

His light priest's robes were a stark contrast to the black couch on which he sat, and his salt-and-pepper hair caught the firelight, giving it golden spots.

"Well," he began, "I don't really know what to say. You know of course, Monsieur le Vicomte and Madame… Lescaut, is it? … you know you cannot be divorced in the eyes of the Catholic Church! But then again, if you were to completely annul your previous marriage on the grounds of your… previous commitment to Monsieur Erik, Julie would be illegitimate. So, all I can offer is to hear both your confessions and Monsieur Erik's as well, if he wishes. And as I now know about your rather special circumstances, I believe your actions cannot be criticized."

Raoul sighed and replied, "Thank you, Father. We need your support."

Christine had tensed up as the priest had mentioned Erik confessing, as she knew that he had had only bad experiences with the church. She mumbled her agreement to the priest's idea while anxiously eyeing Erik.

He kept his gaze on the floor for a while, before his eyes met the priest's.

"I thank you as well, Father. I will… consider your offer."

OooOooO

Madeleine was watching Julie as she carefully sipped the broth their cook Jacqueline had prepared for her.

It warmed her heart to once again see her sister's vibrant eyes open and full of life.

"So," Julie said while casting a glance at her sister, "I know I can't get up and visit you for quite a while," she grimaced, "as I'm still very weak and Papa will be over-protective anyway. But you have to tell me what has been happening."

Madeleine smiled and felt a slight blush creeping up into her cheeks. She knew what the little one was hinting it.

"Whatever could you be talking about?" she asked evasively, but unable to hide the smile on her lips.

Only weakness stopped Julie from bouncing up and down in her bed like a child eager for a bedtime story. "Oh, you tease! You know perfectly well who I'm talking about. There was something about Comte Jean I was going to tell you, but I forgot… but you said you met him again, so, what happened?"

Madeleine smiled at her sister's exuberance. She carefully smoothed the wrinkles in her dark green velvet skirts before telling her about her meetings with the young nobleman during the past weeks, including the tender embraces on the rooftop. After she had finished, Julie heaved a long sigh.

"I am _so_ jealous! For all I know, Papa will make me marry some old business friend of his."

Madeleine slapped her hand playfully. "Oh, fibber, you know he would never do that, you are far too precious to him. He'll want you to marry someone you are head over heels in love with and who will carry you on his hands to heaven and back! And you know you'll feel for him all the joy a woman could possibly feel, and his every touch will ignite this fire in your soul and heart, which wards off everything cold and bad in the world…"

She feel silent and stared out the window, a dreamy expression on her face.

Julie regarded her, an impish gleam in her eyes.

"Sound like someone is quite taken with the young Comte, ey? Maybe even… in love? Ooh!"

Madeleine giggled, something she had rarely ever done before knowing Julie.

"Oh," she protested, "but a nobleman like him, he surely has a fiancée whom he's been betrothed to since his third birthday."

Being used to their playful banter, she expected her sister to launch into one of her grand speeches about how he could certainly be only in love with her and no one else. She didn't believe it, of course, but it was fun to play at.

What she did not expect was the horrified expression on Julie's face or her gasp of "Oh my God!"

She went on to explain hastily.

"That's what I came to the Opera about. But… you weren't there and so I went back home and it was raining… that's when I fell ill, I suppose. But anyway, what I had to tell you! I heard from his sister Suzette that his…, yes, his fiancée Isabella Montero is coming here from Spain, or has already come here. They have been betrothed for twelve years and now it is time for him to get married. I am so sorry, I don't know what to…"

She fell silent. Madeleine's expression was empty. She just refused to feel the hurt. She refused to let it break her heart again. Taking deep, calming breaths, she got up and exited Julie's bedroom without another word.

On her way past the drawing room, she called through the door, which stood ajar, "I wish to go home, papa! I'll wait by the door."

OooOooO

Isabella Montero was a beautiful woman, Madeleine decided, as she watched her, Jean and Suzette talking from behind one of the many two-way mirrors in the halls of the Opera Populaire.

The Spanish woman seemed to posses the fire of her country, but also the bearings of a true noblewoman.

She was tall, almost reaching six feet and had a willowy grace about her, although she certainly didn't lack for any feminine curves.

Her hair was jet black and twisted into an elaborate crown on top of her head.

Her heart-shaped face was dominated by a pair of large, liquid looking eyes the colour of charcoal. Her lips were stained a dark red, and her straight nose was just a tad too short, giving her a slightly aloof expression, whether or not she actually intended to look that way.

She wore a gown of raw silk, a dark burgundy colour that provided an interesting contrast to her ivory complexion.

Her hands in the black satin gloves were constantly gesturing, one hand clutching a black lace shawl, the other one occasionally grasping Jean's arm or hand.

He seemed to be enjoying himself as he laughed heartily about whatever story his fiancée was telling.

Madeleine couldn't take anymore. She turned away and made her way silently through the secret passageways into the old dressing room.

There, she collapsed onto a chair and began twisting the satin folds of her skirts. Why had she chosen to wear her best dress this day? It was lovely, an amber coloured off the shoulder gown with tiny seed pearls along the ruched sleeves, décolletage, and hem.

But why did she pick this one? Was she trying to outshine the stranger?

Her gaze found her own eyes in the mirror, the golden orbs full of questioning.

She tried to imagine them a dark charcoal, and her hair pitch black. But what of the rest of her? Those passive white features she was looking at, that wasn't her face. With a snarl, she ripped of the protecting satin and stared at the ruin of her face.

"Go on, Madeleine," she growled at herself, "go on and compare yourself to Isabella Montero! I dare you!"

OooOooO

Jean was already waiting for her on the roof, and he was gazing out over Paris as she stepped through the door.

He didn't hear her approach, so she took a moment to look at him.

The wind was playing in his longish curls and in the folds of his cloak, making it billow and wave. It almost made him look like a dark angel who was stretching his wings, she decided.

Finally, the rustle of her many skirts caught his attention, and he turned around, a smile lighting up his face. In the dim light, his eyes appeared like emeralds, and he held out his hand to her.

She took a step back, tilted her head to the side and stared at him for a moment longer. His smile faded and he had a confused look in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

Madeleine took another step back. Then she answered, "I am going to miss you, Jean. Goodbye," before heading for the door again.

OooOooO

A/N: I tried very hard not to feel insulted by hardly any of you daring to place bets! I would imagine this is quite predictable! SO, just to torture you some more, here are more hardships for our beloved main characters! By the way, I will NOT be updating until I receive at least TEN REVIEWS for this chapter! The more reviews there are, the faster I'll write! Hahaha! I wanna get paid in reviews now! Muahahaaa... aehm. Sorry 'bout that.

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	19. Chapter 19

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I only have to figure out a way to... Nah, forget it. I won't ever own POTO.

Erik: So, have you made up you mind as to whom you want to dedicate the story to?

Me: Not yet, why? Do you have any suggestions?

Erik: No, not really, other then... hmm... (cough)me(cough)...

Me: Pfff...

THANKS to reviewers. You made my day with so many reviews! Now do the same again for this chapter and for my other one-shot "A girl with no name" and I'll have the last chapter of this story posted by the end of the week. Thanks!

By the way, I put in the confession thing because, as you may or may not know, as a Catholic, you can't get divorced. So, basically, in the eyes of the church, Christine is still married to Raoul and living with Erik without being his wife. Father Bertram wants to give them some kind of blessing, but in order to do that, they'd have to confess that as a sin and as we all know, Erik has a rather strained relationship with the church.

Oh, and yeah, this story is clichè, but ya know what? I like it that way!

OooOooO

Chapter Nineteen

Apparently, Madeleine had underestimated how fast Jean could move, for he had caught her before she had stepped through the door and the expression on his face had changed from confused to angry.

"What is it now?" he almost growled.

Madeleine shook her arm in an attempt to free herself, but as he was almost a foot taller and much stronger, it was to no avail.

"I'm getting out of your way! That should please you!" she shot back.

"And why," he hissed through clenched teeth, "should that please me? I have had quite enough of your constant change of heart!"

She stopped struggling. Her temper rose, as did her magnificent voice.

"My heart never changed, which is why I was foolish enough to let myself believe I could trust you again. But now I'm leaving for good, so be happy, you and your fiancée can live in peace!"

He let go of her arm and she turned away from him, rearranging the mask on her face.

"What fiancée?" he asked, utter bewilderment in his voice. "I have no fiancée, not yet, anyway!"

Her eyes blazed as she turned back to him. "Then who was the gorgeous lady you were talking to in the lobby?"

And Jean began to laugh so heartily that it left Madeleine quite puzzled.

"That's my cousin," he panted and wiped a tear of merriment from the corner of his eye, "my cousin Isabella from Spain! Dear girl, are you so jealous that I can't talk to another woman?"

"But… but," she stuttered, "your sister told mine that Isabella Montero was your betrothed."

He grew serious. "Well, she lied then, something I will definitely discuss with her. It doesn't surprise me, to be honest, she probably guessed that Julie would tell you!"

Madeleine acknowledged that with a nod, then she lifted her chin defiantly again.

"And why would I be jealous! I hold no claim on you!"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?" He reached over and plucked the mask off her face, then he pulled her close.

"I'll tell you something now, and this time you'll have to believe me. I love you. All of you, silly girl, and I will prove it to you," he said firmly, his warm dark voice soothing to her nerves.

Unable to believe her eyes, she watched as he lowered his mouth to hers. Gasping, she felt his lips against hers, a soft pressure, undemanding and gentle. He kept his kiss chaste and friendly, until she had adjusted to the strange feeling and began to return the affection.

A strange, pleasurable fire was flaring up in her belly as his kiss deepened, his tongue parting her lips and brushing against her own. Her eyes slipped closed at that, her instincts taking over as she responded to his kiss.

When he drew back finally, she had gone limp in his arms. Her golden eyes were filled with tears. A few escaped and cascaded down her cheek. Jean brushed those away with his thumb.

She pressed her slender fingers to her mouth and put her head on his chest, her silent tears slowly forming a wet spot on his burgundy waistcoat.

"I don't know… I mean, you're being perfectly nice and I'm crying," she choked out.

"Cry if you must," he advised gently, one hand resting gently on her hair, "but… do you love me back, sweet?"

She took a step back and wiped her eyes with a white cotton kerchief.

"I don't know. I mean, I know I love you, but what then? What does that change?"

He took her hands in his. "I'll speak to your father, preferably from a safe distance though." She smiled at that and he went on, "and I'll ask permission to court you. We will take it from there."

OooOooO

When Jean came home that night, Suzette was sitting in the living room on a chaise longue in front of the fire. She was embroidering a pillow case and her dark hair was pulled back in a tight chignon. The pale green linen of her dress pooled around her feet.

He stood in the door and watched her for a moment before speaking.

"Suzette Des Cars," he said simply, and she looked up at him and smiled, "Good evening, Jean."

"Des Cars…" he repeated, "how much does that name mean to you, sister?"

She raised her slim eyebrows and rose from the chair. Her gaze wandered around the sitting room before answering, lingering on the simple birch wood furniture and the lonely family portrait over the brick mantelpiece.

"It's who we are," she replied earnestly, for she sensed that Jean was in no mood for jesting.

"Is it?" he asked in return and came towards her, the sheep wool carpet swallowing the sounds of his footsteps. "I'll tell you what it is to me: Nothing! It's the name I respond to, but it holds less meaning than the dirt under my fingernails! Do you honestly think the other aristocrats would still give a damn about us, Des Cars or not? They don't, except for Raoul de Chagny, perhaps, but we might as well be dead to the rest of them! I was raised just like you, my dear sister, as a noble, but I stopped being that, and a liar and a hypocrite on the day François, Martine and Mama died. Somehow you never made that transition."

Suzette had paled considerably. She was staring down at her embroidery. Without noticing it, she had pricked herself in the finger with the needle. A small crimson spot now marred the cloth.

"Whatever could you be talking about," she whispered. She knew what he was talking about, though, and so she made no move to stop him as he turned away from her and left for his room.

She had disappointed him and she knew it. But it was not only pride that had made her act that way. She had never forgotten how proud her mother used to be of her children, how sure that one day, they would be in the finest circles of Paris.

Jean had never been too interested in elegant dinners or lavish parties, but Suzette had enjoyed seeing her mother so happy and content.

Martine, her older sister, had been engaged to a nobleman from Italy and for a while at least, their lives had seemed perfect. Perfection, she had realised a short while later, was a fleeting thing indeed.

OooOooO

Madeleine had lain awake most of the night, absentmindedly touching her lips and dreaming of the feeling of Jean's kisses.

She had told her mother everything, and Christine had been delighted. She had also promised help in convincing Erik to speak to Jean without strangling him.

Strange, Madeleine mused, she would have imagined to have trouble believing it, especially here, in the familiar safety of her room, with it's forest green carpet, the oak panelling and the warmth of her feather blanket cocooning her. But the throb of her heart reminded her that last night had truly happened. And with a last thought of Jean's gentle eyes, she slipped away into sleep.

OooOooO

Erik had been quiet and pensive after their return from the Chagny mansion and had requested to be left alone so he might compose some more, but Christine had paid attention and all the instruments had remained silent that night.

The next day, the frosty atmosphere didn't dissipate, and by dinnertime, Christine was fed up with her husbands smooth and elusive manners, that covered up his emotions.

Madeleine had excused herself and gone wandering off into the opera again and she and Erik were alone at the table.

They hardly spoke until they had finished the meal and were starting on dessert, at which point she reached over and lightly placed her fingers on her husband's.

He flinched. His thoughts had been elsewhere and he returned her smile hesitantly.

"What were you thinking about, my angel?" she inquired gently and he took a deep breath before replying, "I have decided not to take up Father Bertram's offer. I will not 'confess' anything."

She nodded. "That's fine."  
Erik was so startled by this answer that he almost dropped his bowl of chocolate parfait.

"You don't mind? But religion means so much to you! Because of me, you are a 'sinner' in the eyes of your church!"

Christine kept smiling.

"Oh, Erik, how I love you!" She got up from her chair and sat down upon his lap. "This marriage is blessed by God, I'm sure of it. Just look at our wonderful daughter, who, by the way, has asked me to tell you that she wants to get baptized next Sunday, if that is alright with you."

Erik grimaced, but nodded. "I did tell her to make up her own mind about God and the church… But what else are you not telling me?" he asked suddenly, noticing the mischievous smirk on his wife's face. She looked especially beautiful, he saw as well, with a dress in rose coloured satin and the table was set with the good china. The candles were lit… had he been to preoccupied to notice that?

"What is going on?" he half-growled, "You are preparing me for something, I know it!"

"Well," Christine began and put her head on his shoulder; "this really magnificent young man has fallen in love with your daughter, and, well, Madeleine asked me to tell you…"

OooOooO

A/N: Whoooot! Smoochies! More smoochies! D'you want more smoochies? Hehehe... ok, you know the drill: At least... 12 REVIEWS! Oh, and take a guess at Erik's reaction, I'll even give you a hint: It was a good idea of Christine to sit down on him before telling him!

Love you all!

P.F.A.


	20. Chapter 20

One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: It ain't mine!

Erik: So, who're you going to dedicate the last chapter to? Did you decide?

Me: It was a tough decision...

Erik: ... and?

Me: ... and so I have decided to dedicate this chapter to all my lovely faithful reviewers, especially Annoying Spirit, Nicole Gruebel, Lonesoul, Doro, An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin, LiTTleLoTTe1991, Son Ange and of course everyone else, whoever I forgot!

THANKS so much! Your reviews have made it so great to write this story, I really did a happy dance for every review! I'm not yet sure when the sequel will pick up, perhaps some time before this chapter ends, you'll know why after you've read it. ;) Let me know how you liked it and stay tuned for my next story!

OooOooO

Madeleine felt anxious. She had no idea as to how her father would take the news of her relationship with Jean, and so she kept imagining horror scenes in which her father threw a fit of outrage and rushed to kill Jean with his deadly Punjab lasso.

To keep herself entertained while waiting in the dressing room, she had brought a book, but she didn't read, she just kept folding the corners of the pages back and forth.

Madeleine was so caught up in her worries that she didn't notice anyone behind her until Jean had crept up, grasped her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. She flinched, but then a smile lit up her face as she turned around in his arms.

"Why, you look especially lovely today," he complimented her and she felt a blush creeping onto her gaunt face. Her curls were loosely pinned up and the off-the-shoulder dress she wore was made out of burgundy satin.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her eyes sought his before she shyly reached up, clasped her hands behind his neck, pulled his head towards her and brought her lips to his.

They both became so caught up in their kiss that they didn't hear the mirror sliding open behind them and it took the sound of Erik's cold voice to jolt them apart.

"Isn't it considered proper to speak to a girl's father _before _you attempt to seduce her?"

Madeleine was frightened to look into her father's eyes, so she kept her gaze on the floor. "Please, papa, it was nothing…"

"Can't your young man speak for himself?" Erik asked sharply.

Jean gave a half bow, some strands of his ebony hair fell forward to curl around his face.

"Yes, monsieur, I can speak for myself. I've been meaning to seek you out, but you are rather secretive, if I might add that in my defence." He smiled and the masked man seemed to soften somewhat.

"Madeleine," he advised his daughter, "go home. I'll be along after my discussion with Comte Des Cars."

The last thing she heard after a quick curtsey and a last look of longing at Jean before exiting through the mirror was her beloved's soft baritone, "Please, call me Jean."

OooOooO

Christine immediately feared that it hadn't gone well after her daughter returned home and hurried into her room without so much as a greeting, so she quickly followed her.

A sorry sight met her eyes, as Maddy lay on the bed in a foetal position, her face buried in her soft feather pillow.

Christine sat down next to her and ran her hand over her child's tousled curls.

"What is it?" she asked gently.

"I have _no _idea what they are talking about," Madeleine moaned into the pillow, "for all I know, papa could be strangling Jean right at this moment."

Her mother gathered Maddy close and allowed her to sob her confusion into her white lace shawl.

"Shh," she whispered, "it will be alright."

They sat like that for a while, before Christine could persuade her daughter to come and help her with dinner preparations, as they were expecting Raoul and Julie that night.

Madeleine was just busy stirring molten chocolate for the dessert, a white apron tied over her dress, while her mother sliced up mushrooms, when her father poked his head through the door and she dropped the spoon.

His eyes met hers for a moment and he gave an almost imperceptible nod before turning to his wife and announcing, "Jean will be joining us for dinner, if that is all right with you, my dear."

Christine beamed at him, like she had done in the past whenever he had complimented her on a piece of music well sung.

"That's perfectly alright."

OooOooO

During dinner, Julie kept glancing back and forth between Jean and Madeleine, a puckish smile on her face.

Raoul and his daughter had arrived shortly after Jean and Erik, and they had been more than a little surprised to meet someone else in the sanctuary of the Lescaut family.

Madeleine looked insanely happy and Jean gazed at her with an affection in his eyes that made Julie want to sigh with envy and adoration.

After dinner, witch nobody could really pay attention to, although it had been delicious, Erik assisted Christine in carrying the dishes back from the dining room to the adjacent kitchen.

"So what convinced you?" she asked him after the door had swung shut. Erik didn't have to ask what she was hinting at.

"The look in his eyes," he replied. "I saw the same look in Raoul's eyes the night I locked him and Nadir in the torture chamber. I knew then that he loved you more than life itself and Jean… he is just as hopelessly in love. I can't say I blame him, either," he grinned, "after all, she is _our _daughter."

A while later, Raoul and Julie had already left and Jean had become properly acquainted with Madeleine's parents, he, too, prepared to leave.

Once more, he assured Maddy of his eternal affection, before stepping into the boat and allowing Erik to guide him out of the maze below the opera.

On the doorstep of the Rue Scribe exit, they shook hands and Erik said, "Very well, monsieur. You may court my daughter." He grinned, "I could imagine worse sons-in-law."

OooOooO

Summer began like a perfect fairy tale for Madeleine. The weather seemed to mirror her feelings, as the sun was constantly shining and a gorgeous mass of flowers made the gardens of House Des Cars a paradise to walk in.

It was on one of those lovely days that she and Jean were promenading through said gardens. Her light muslin dress was white with mint stripes and a matching hat sat on her chocolate curls.

Jean was dressed fit for the warm weather as well.

The dove grey pants were light and his crisp white shirt was loose, his sleeves rolled up and he had tucked a daisy she had picked early into one of the button holes.

They were laughing and talking, until Jean led her to a carved stone bench between two blooming rose bushes. She sat down, as he asked her to. Jean, however, knelt down in front of her, pulled a little black box out of one pocket and took her right hand in both of his.

"Madeleine," he began and took another calming breath, "I love you… more than anything. I can't imagine a life without you and so… I ask you, would you do me the honour of," another deep breath, "becoming my wife?"

He opened the box and took out the ring. It was magnificent. The silver band split into three thin strands which curled themselves delicately around the sparkling solitaire diamond.

Madeleine was speechless. She let him slip the ring on her finger, but her throat was closed up, so she only wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, tears of happiness on her cheeks.

How, she wondered, as she felt his gentle lips upon hers, could her life have become so very happy in such a short time?

OooOooO

Julie was enjoying the summer sun as well a few days later. She sat in comfortable chair in her father's park-like garden, with an easel in front of her and a brush in her hand. The picture showed the house with the ivy climbing up the wall and the rich green of the cherry tree under her window.

How she whished she could climb it again, but her heart had been permanently weakened during her illness and any overexertion could cause her serious harm.

She sighed wistfully and returned to her drawing.

It wasn't long, however, before her father came running out of the house, his vest open and his long hair fluttering in the light breeze. He was waving an envelope and a piece of white stationary which was bordered in gold.

"It appears," he announced as he handed her the letter with a grand gesture, "that we have been invited to a wedding!"

And Julie laughed happily as she read the invitation.

"Please join us for the joyous celebration…"

The end

OooOooO

A/N: This is it! I hope you had a good time reading this. I know I had a blast writing it and I can guarantee that you'll hear more from me:) _But _I'm going to need twenty reviews on this chapter before I even _start_ the sequel, so push that button!

SO, until we meet again!

Love you all!

P.F.A.


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